The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned
by ilovetvalot
Summary: At long last, the conclusion of the Prossi quartet. Follows, "Perfect Plans", "The First Trimester", and "The Second Trimester". Emily is in the home stretch of the pregnancy. Her survival is guaranteed. Rossi is iffy.
1. Chapter 1

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter One**

David Rossi was a huge believer that pregnant women ought to come with a warning label stamped across their foreheads. Something along the lines of "Hormonally Challenged" in bright red block letters visible at twenty feet in any direction. It was only fair that others at least be given a fighting chance, wasn't it?

After all, the last time he checked, it was still against the law to kill a pregnant woman. It wasn't as if someone couldn't wrap his hands around her neck and shake her until she rattled or some sense rattled into her fool head. Even when she deserved it. Even when she pulled crazy ass stunts like, oh, say, deciding that the third trimester of her pregnancy was the perfect time to rearrange every closet in the damn house.

Nope, not even then.

He hadn't always felt this way. No, there had been a time in his life where, like many other clueless males on the planet, he'd found the expectant mother an appealing blend of qualities. He'd thought the glow was radiant, beautiful even. Instead, he was surprised to learn it was merely a flush from the exertions she experienced while trying to kill the prospective father.

He'd thought the bulge beneath her blouse riveting, a visible reminder of the miracle of life. Right up until he watched his Emily try to rip off an unsuspecting intern's hand. It had been a clear violation of Rule #63, which apparently stated that f you weren't responsible for placing said child within the womb, then you were to keep your grubby, germ infested hand to yourself unless invited to touch.

After years of naively believing these wonderful myths, alas, he had himself had become an expectant father. And every idea he'd ever had in his life regarding the gestating mother had been thrown out the window. Exactly as his friend, Will LaMontagne, had said it would when he'd announced his upcoming change in paternal status.

Ah, yes, his young friend had been a fount of sage wisdom, distributing kernels of truth with regularity and vigor. And the slightest bit of sadistic glee, if Dave wasn't mistaken. But whatever Dave was thinking about young Will, he was beginning to wish he had heeded the most recent rule a little more seriously.

Lesson 243: Never, under any circumstances, should you turn your back on a woman in her third trimester of pregnancy. The female is unpredictable at best and homicidal at worst.

Rubbing the back of his aching head, Dave winced as he remembered, belatedly, that particular pithy decree. Why the fuck hadn't he just listened to the bumbling Cajun?

Although, in his defense, he honestly didn't feel he could be held responsible for the suggestion that Emily might want to limit her time on the ladder, which he had offered as she tried to reach the top shelf of the closet. Honestly, how could that be misconstrued as anything other than the caring, thoughtful concern that it was? But somehow, in her obviously addled mind, it had been. Drastically. And if the seven-and-a-half minute rant he had been subjected to about her ability to determine her own boundaries and abilities hadn't been enough, the solid object that had beaned him upside his noggin when he had attempted to escape had been the icing on the cake.

Oh yes, he had learned not to turn his back on her. LaMontagne had that right.

Much like he was also right about Lesson 42: Never tell a pregnant woman what she should or should not be eating. You will quickly find yourself wearing said item.

No one had every warned him that a pregnant woman could tell the difference between chocolate chunk and chocolate fudge at twenty paces, her eyesight and sense of smell obviously reaching superhero abilities with each passing month of gestation. Oh, she'd been smooth about her displeasure, even letting him put the carton into her hot little hand before making a sound. And then, she'd shown no mercy when she'd used his head for target practice with it, hitting him with the precision of the most seasoned sharpshooter.

He'd tried to ignore her behavior modifications, reminding himself every other second that one day, hopefully soon, he'd have his beautiful partner back. Pregnancy was a temporary condition after all.

But again, while he was living in the dreamland of hope and disbelief, those dastardly rules had been enforced. Rule #132 clearly stated that when your partner asks you a question of any nature, even if you clearly recognize said question for the trap it is, you must answer.

So, when the love of his very long life had asked, "Do you think I've changed since I got pregnant?"….. what had he been supposed to do? Apparently, the only thing Emily Prentiss could spot quicker than the wrong food was a lie. And he'd been well aware that if he'd said nothing, she simply would have put words into his own mouth. And that would have been a hell of a lot more dangerous than reserving his right to remain silent.

So, he'd answered her. "Of course you've changed, babe. Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Truthful. Concise. Not meant to be anything other than the answer she had demanded. Perfectly innocent answer, right?

WRONG.

Nope, he'd inadvertently stepped all over another rule from LaMontagne's helpful handbook.

Rule #236 clearly stated that if you ever hope to have a chance in hell of seeing your pregnant wife in flagrante again during the course of her pregnancy, never refer to her body in any way that could be construed as less than complimentary. Consequently, telling her that she was beautiful served to be pointless, too. Apparently, pregnant women never believed you. He ought to know. After breaking the previous rule, he had spent the next three and a half hours thinking of ever possible flattering phrase possible to convince her that he truly loved her body in all of its pregnant glory. To no avail. None whatsoever. Zilch.

So, in short, he, David Rossi, charmer of women all over the face of the planet, had fucked up. And, now, standing outside his own front door, he realized that he was about to wade back into the fray that had become his life.

God help him.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Third Trimester**

**Chapter Two**

Warily standing in front of his front door, Dave swallowed, willing himself to view this entire situation with a clinical eye. He loved his partner. God knew, he did. He'd entirely rewrote his life after better than a half century of living for her, hadn't he? Yep, that had been him. Admittedly, it had began more because he couldn't stand for Emily to get pregnant via a test tube rather than the old-fashioned way than it had because of a burning desire to be a father. But, that had been months ago. Situations and emotions had changed drastically in that short time.

Now, here he stood, very much in love with a normally sane, rational woman and about to be given the biggest gift any man could ever hope to receive. He was lucky, right? But despite his best efforts, he couldn't seem to work up much of an enthusiastic response to that particular introspective question. Nope, he didn't feel quite lucky at the moment. In fact, if he was asked to put a label on these feelings, they wouldn't be complimentary at all.

Frightened? Check. Apprehensive? Double check. Anxious? Hell, yeah! Triple check!

He had hit the Trifecta.

Shaking his head at himself, he had to admit this was a hell of a pickle he was in. Afraid to walk inside the house that he'd bought for them. Terrified to breathe too loudly lest the woman's head that he loved so well spin three hundred and sixty degrees atop her beautiful body. And, yes, he definitely still found her body gorgeous. Ripe, swollen with his child...what the hell kind of man would he be if he didn't feel that way, despite her protests to the contrary? She was amazing, in spite of her slightly psychotic episodes of late. And she was having his baby, which meant those said episodes could be easily overlooked.

Although, he told himself, momentarily playing devil's advocate with his own psyche, he should never forget Rule Number 417: A pregnant woman has the memory of an elephant, although it would be unwise to use that comparison in her presence if you still desired the use of all of your important appendages. And he, like any other self-respecting male, liked his attachments. He liked them a lot.

He might very well be able to overlook any of Emily's outbursts and temporary lapses in normal sanity, but the same courtesy would not be given to him. No, if Will LaMontagne was correct in his anthropological study of the gestational human female, anything he said and did could and would be used against him at a time of the woman's choosing.

Case in point being the moment from earlier last week when he had remarked, completely innocently he might add, that he couldn't wait for the baby to be born so that they could all breathe a bit easier.

Now, what could be wrong with such a completely generic statement like that?

Apparently, quite a bit if Emily Prentiss was the one serving as judge, jury…and executioner. Over the past twelve days, she had managed to recall his words with amazing accuracy at all times of the day and night, never failing to remind him that HE was not the one currently experiencing the inhabitation of an alien being inside his body sucking the very air from his lungs, so how he could even use the words "breathe easier" in a sentence was beyond her comprehension.

But, he told himself with a straightening of his shoulders, now was not the time to dwell on those stupid rules. Now was the time to take the bull by the horns, figuratively and literally, and take his lumps like a man.

Pushing open the door, he stepped inside the brightly decorated sun porch, holding his breath as he listened closely for any signs of demonic manifestation. Experience had taught him that the hounds of hell appeared in many different forms, from the soft, wrenching sounds of weeping to the more vociferous renting of curses throughout the air. Hearing nothing other than the soft hum of the refrigerator from the nearby kitchen, he took a step forward, followed by another one, as he made his way deeper into the house.

Deciding that announcing himself would probably be better in the long run that having her accuse him of stalking or spying on her, two actions that he had already been brought up on charges for, he called out, his voice completely loving and supportive, "Em? Honey? You here?"

Please God, he prayed, let one of her less violent personalities be in control this evening. Just one relatively peaceful night. That's all he needed to gather the vestiges of his manhood together and face the rest of this pregnancy with a stiff upper lip. Was that too much to ask?

But, he learned quickly, the God that he had worshiped all of his life apparently hated him. Ardently.

"Where in the name of God have you been, David?" Emily asked angrily, waddling into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed as her dark lustrous hair flowed behind her.

Damn she was adorable...like a little Buddha. Oh hell, don't go there Rossi. Checking himself quickly, he realized he'd already silently violated two cardinal rules from LaMontagne's pregnancy playbook. Rule 74 clearly stated, you never verbally utter the word waddle in a expectant mother's presence if you liked the way your head felt attached to its shoulders. And Rule 33 was very cut and dried. Never refer to the resemblance between the pregnant mama and any ancient deity, no matter how cute he or she is perceived to be by devoted followers and aficionados worldwide.

"Get a fucking clue, Rossi," he yelled at himself, mentally chagrinned for his almost faux pas, "Aren't you in enough trouble with Satan's sister?"

"Honey, I stepped out for a bit. Exactly like you told me to? Remember?" he asked in what he fervently prayed was a non-accusatory tone. He honestly didn't want to think about what rules an accusatory tone violated.

With his luck, it would the one that demanded a human sacrifice. And he had a feeling he would be the one thrown into the volcano by the pregnant woman herself.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone reading, reviewing, alerting and favoriting this story. I'm extremely grateful and truly appreciate hearing from each of you. I'm going to try and get some writing done tomorrow, so, the next post will be Friday. Thanks!! As ever, we don't own Criminal Minds.**_

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Three**

"The crib showed up this afternoon," Emily said, her voice clipped and slightly accusing as she continued, sharply, "You promised you'd put it together as soon as it arrived." Glancing down at her burgeoning belly, she growled, "And in case you missed it here, Rossi, we don't have a lot of time for you to waste."

Sighing heavily as his eyes drifted closed, he knew he shouldn't bother to try defending himself... that it wouldn't do any good. He should learn from his mistakes in the past, shouldn't he, and remember the warzone that had suddenly developed the last time he reached an impasse such as this. But that small voice in the back of his mind wouldn't quit screaming at him. "Honey, once more, you told me to leave for a while. In fact, I think your exact words were, 'Get out of my house before I use your head for target practice!'," Dave stated, keeping his voice as non-judgmental as he possibly could given the circumstances.

"And when I say that during labor, are you going to take that as your opportunity to run like a scared little girl, Dave?" Emily asked with a sweet bite to her voice and a saccharine smile gracing her lips.

"Don't answer that! Don't!" his mind suddenly screamed violently, flashing images of an orange construction sign with the word "Danger" emblazoned in bright black letters in front of his eyes. But apparently he chose that moment to suddenly become deaf and blind to his own conscience.

"Depends," Dave drawled, ignoring the insistent warnings of his better angels, "Is the gun in your hand?"

Watching her once-lovely eyes harden and narrow with deadly intensity, Dave began to backpedal furiously. Ah, hell, he'd awakened the beast that resided in the love of his life from its slumber. And worse yet, he'd done it semi-intentionally, meaning that he was well-aware of the ramifications of his actions. "Joke, babe! You remember what that is, right?"

"Oh, I can recognize a joke, Rossi," Emily nodded tightly, her hands resting on her burgeoning belly. "I even laugh at them on occasion. That is, when they're funny."

"Okay, babe," Dave replied, holding up his hands in supplication, well aware of the coming explosion if he didn't manage to get back on her good side. "I apologize for my obviously bad attempt at humor." Cocking his head, he asked, not above pleading for mercy, "Is it even remotely possible that I can beg, borrow or steal a kiss from the woman I love and mother of my coming child? Please?"

"I suppose," Emily muttered, rubbing a hand against her belly as she watched her lover's dark head slowly begin descending.

Stopping abruptly as he hovered within an inch of her damp lips, he clarified, meeting her dark eyes, "Without being bitten this time, please?" Memories came quickly of a kiss from earlier in the week when he'd stolen one of her kisses and those sharp little teeth had drawn blood. His blood.

"I'll try to restrain myself," Emily sighed, closing her eyes as his gentle mouth warmly covered hers. Relaxing slightly as she felt his strong arms slip around her, enfolding her in their secure grip, Emily smiled as she felt her tummy pressed against him. Sometimes, she really loved this man. And moments like this, standing quietly in the circle of his arms, reminded her exactly how deeply that love ran. Parting her lips to meet the stroke of his tongue with one of her own, she heard and exalted in his low groan as her hands teased the hair at the nape of his neck.

Breaking away slowly from their intimate embrace, Dave gazed down at the small woman with heated eyes. "Now, that's the kind of greeting that I love. Lead with that next time, Cara."

Nuzzling her face into his neck, Emily inhaled deeply, the spicily intoxicating scent of his cologne filling her nostrils. "Mmmm...I'll think about it," she said, sighing appreciatively as his talented hand stroked her tense back, moaning as he reached a particular tense area.

"Back hurt?" he asked softly, soothing muscles strained by carrying the weight of his child. The pregnancy hadn't stopped Emily from her normal activities, but he had noticed that the last few weeks had definitely been slowing her down, her body feeling the effects of the extra weight.

"Yes," Emily admitted grudgingly, nodding against his shoulder. "Baby Rossi is learning some new acrobatic moves, evidently," she murmured, feeling one of his hands slide around to cup her abdomen. Wincing and bending forward suddenly as the baby in question delivered a well aimed jab at one of her internal organs, Emily struggled to find her breath.

"Emily?" Dave growled as her fingers grabbed for his shirt, bunching the fabric tightly in her fist. "Cara?" he prodded again when she didn't immediately issue some scathing retort, clueing him to her true status.

Breathing deeply as the muscles in her belly tightened, Emily rested her head against Dave's barrel chest. "I'm okay," she panted through the pain, reminding herself that this was a normal part of pregnancy. Letting out a deep breath, she whispered as the worst of the pain started to pass, "She's just really, really active this afternoon."

"Active, how?" Dave questioned rapidly, his nervousness growing as he wrapped his hand tighter around her waist.

"Just different kinds of aches and pains," Emily shrugged, straightening in his arms as the brief pain eased, leaving her with a dull ache that she had become accustomed to.

Grimacing, Dave shifted her against him so he could stare down into her dark eyes. "Maybe I should give my mom a call...or your mom...or one of my sisters. Maybe JJ would..." Stopping abruptly as he saw the angry flash in those brown eyes of hers, Dave automatically braced himself for the coming attack.

Because without a doubt, he'd just clearly disobeyed Rule #217. Its wording couldn't have been clearer, he had to admit that now. Never, under any circumstances, assume that another woman, relative or not, would know more about your partner's body than she did, whether this other woman has been through the miracle of childbirth or not.

Yep, he'd just fucked up.

AGAIN!


	4. Chapter 4

******_Author's Note: Thanks again to everyone that is reading, reviewing, alerting or favoriting our stories. We truly appreciate hearing from each and every one of you in whatever way you choose to communicate. With ten ongoing stories, this will probably be the last post until Sunday afternoon/evening. Hopefully, we'll be able to bring back some quality chapters to you. As ever, we don't own Criminal Minds._**

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Four**

Attempting to grab Emily's hand, a second too late of course, Dave winced as she slammed her palms down on the kitchen counter. "When exactly did I lose the ability to know what was going on in my own body?" Emily growled, leaning against the granite as she stared daggers at the man that she had decided to share the rest of her life with. Ignoring the sudden clench in her back, she demanded, "Do you think that being pregnant has suddenly made me incompetent, Rossi?"

Oh, God, he thought, if there was ever a question that he knew how to answer, that one was it. Holding up a hand in the universal sign of peace, Dave said, attempting to calm an escalating situation, "Emily, honey, you know that's not true. I happen to think you're one of the smartest women I know. I'm just worried that…"

"One of the smartest?" she interrupted, dropping a hand to her lower back, wincing in spite of her best efforts to not do so. "So you think there's somebody out there smarter than me who could obviously give you some sort of grand insight to my current condition, huh?"

"Of course not," Dave groaned, rubbing a hand to his suddenly perspiring forehead. Damn, when had this woman become such an adept master at putting words in his mouth? "Honey, all I meant was that all of those people have been in this position before. They might have some insight into..."

"David," Emily warned, her voice hard as she glared, "stop talking for the sake of your continued safety and help me into a chair."

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Dave quickly lifted Emily in his arms and strode toward the living room before she could object. "You overdid it with the damned closets today, didn't you?" he asked, frowning down at her, the pinched look in her eyes telling him everything he needed to know. "I told you that...."

"Do you really think this is the time to begin any conversation with me with "I told you so."?" Emily snapped as the catch in her back finally eased, suddenly reminding her of exactly how normal felt. Sighing as he carefully lowered her onto the soft cushions of their couch, she leaned her head back against the arm, letting her eyes close for a moment as she rubbed her hand over the massive mound that was their daughter.

"Do I need to call your doctor, Cara?" Dave asked, staring down at her apprehensively, his fingers already slipping into his pocket to wrap around his phone.

"Because I'm a little uncomfortable?" Emily snorted, rolling her eyes as she reached for one of the sofa cushions. "No, Dave," she mocked, "I think we can handle this one on our own."

"Speak for yourself," Dave muttered, dropping to the coffee table in front of her, resting his elbows on his knees. "Many more pains like that and I'm bypassing the doctor completely and taking you to the hospital."

"You absolutely will not," Emily shook her head as she frowned in his direction. "This baby is on a schedule and she's not due to arrive for two more weeks," Emily declared, defying him to find argument with her pronouncement with a telling glare.

"Tell her," he said, nodding toward her stomach, reaching out to rest his hand against hers, "Not me. I'm on board with the schedule you set up." Personally, he didn't think she had a chance in hell of making it fourteen more days, but who was he to offer an opinion? He'd long ago given up on offering any kind of thoughts, whatsoever, knowing that it was an exercise in futility. He simply rolled with it at this point. LaMontagne had assured him that was his best course of action. If he was lucky, he'd make it all the way to delivery with his penis still attached to his body. After that, he'd refused to make any guarantees.

"Good to know," Emily replied, shivering a little in the cool room, wrapping her arms around her chest.

"You cold, Cara?" Dave asked, catching the convulsive shimmy out of the corner of her eye.

"A little," Emily admitted with a slight nod, turning to meet his concerned eyes. "Would you go grab me one of your sweatshirts? Preferably the oversize grey one with the hood."

Nodding automatically, Dave immediately moved to do her bidding, a skill he had become very adept at. Walking into their bedroom, he moved immediately toward his closet. Or at least what used to be his closet. These days, it was community property. From his sweatshirts to his socks, Emily had slowly taken over his clothing, all without a single word. And in deference to Rule #132, which stated that when your expectant partner steals your clothing, give said articles over willingly and never, under any circumstance, comment about how well they fit her, he'd acquiesced easily. And kept his mouth shut.

Grabbing her new favorite sweatshirt, he smiled as he pulled it off the hanger. At least if she didn't want him wrapped around her, she still didn't mind his clothes. Glass half full, right? That's the way to look at things, he encouraged himself.

Returning to the living room quickly, he helped her slip the soft material over her head. "Better?" he asked as she settled back into the corner of the couch, sweeping a gentle hand over her long dark hair.

"Much," she sighed in appreciation, snuggling into the warm jersey. "Sorry for earlier," she murmured, looking at him contritely through lowered lashes. "I promise, I'll be better once the baby finally gets here."

Reaching out to tuck a silky strand of hair behind her small ear, Dave grinned. "We're both a little anxious right now, Cara. It's okay," he murmured, leaning forward to peck her forehead.

"If that's code for I'm losing my mind, then I concur," she smiled up at him, ducking he head for a moment as she let out a deep sigh, the baby taking that moment to shift to another one of her internal organs.

"I'll help you find it after the baby gets here," Dave promised, dropping onto the couch beside her and pulling her stockinged feet into his lap. Gently massaging the arch of her foot as he refrained from commenting on the fact that she was wearing two pairs of his socks, he asked, "So, besides the crib, what else needs to be done?"

"That's it," Emily hummed happily, moaning as his fingers slowly worked their magic over her swollen foot. "Once that sucker's together, all we need is our daughter. And then that nursery is complete."

"Well, in deference to your timetable, I promise you a completed crib before I lay head to pillow," Dave offered generously, working his fingers gently over her ankle.

"Wasn't planning on letting you in our bed until it was done anyway," Emily murmured, eyes closed as she leaned back against the extra pillows, relaxing against his amazing touch.

"Somehow I knew that was coming," Dave chuckled, picking up her other foot and slowly rubbing.

"That's because I chose a very intelligent man to spend my life with," Emily sighed, feeling some of the tension slip away from her. "Most of the time," she added belatedly.

"Was that a compliment I just heard escape your lips?" Dave teased, continuing to massage her swollen arches. "Is it snowing in hell right now?" he asked, only half-joking, the moment almost momentous enough to be memorialized on the calendar.

"Don't be a smartass," Emily admonished, kicking him lightly as the doorbell pealed. Cracking one lid, Emily groaned as she pointed down at him, "Whoever that is, you let them lay one hand on my belly and I'm kicking first their


	5. Chapter 5

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Five**

Having no doubt that she was well-capable of enforcing those threats, Dave swept a soothing hand over her beautiful leg as he slipped off the couch. "I'll personally stand between you and whoever is out there, cara, and use myself as a human shield."

"You'd better," Emily warned, dropping her head back against the pillow on the arm of the couch as she watched him move toward the door. Hearing a high-pitched squeal echo through the hallway as soon as Dave opened the door, Emily winced in sudden remembrance. Why was it that pregnancy had managed to warp her normal, well-ordered mind and make her a forgetful flighty …GIRL?

Having peeked through the peephole, Dave smiled bemusedly as he opened the front door, greeted by the sight of the LaMontagne family. Cocking a brow as the small boy in Will's arms squealed and made a dive for him, Dave easily caught the squirming Henry as he said, "Hey there, little man. What brings you and your parents out to Little Creek tonight?"

Stepping into the wide foyer, a collection of diaper bags and sundry items thrown over his shoulders, Will met Rossi's eyes as he said, "Didn't you get the memo, Rossi? You're our babysitter for tonight."

Seeing the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look suddenly come across her teammate's face, JJ pushed pass Will as she said, rolling her eyes, "I take it this is a surprise to you? Didn't Emily tell you?"

"Uh, I don't think this is exactly the night to be calling her to task on what she did and didn't remember, if you get my drift," Dave muttered under his breath as they all moved toward the living room, his eyes narrowing. "I've already broken four rules, and that was without even trying."

Brushing past Dave, JJ made her way over to a reclined Emily, dropping down on the coffee table in front of her. "You sure you're up for this, Little Mama?" she asked, reaching to pat Emily's swollen stomach.

Eyes widening as he watched JJ extend her arm to commit what his partner had only just deemed a killable offense, Dave lunged for JJ's arm, hoping to save both of them from imminent murder. "No!" he yelped, grabbing her slim arm mere millimeters from Emily's abdomen.

"Dave! What the heck are you doing?" Emily asked with a yell, struggling to regain an upright position as she glowered at him. "Let JJ go!" she demanded, smacking out at his hand.

"But you just..."

"Let. Her. Go!" Emily bit out, her eyes flashing fire as she swung her legs over the edge of the couch.

"Crap," Dave muttered, dropping JJ's arm gently as he shifted Henry in his arms, patting the babbling baby's back.

Lips quivering in amusement at the interplay between her favorite couple, JJ said, striving to keep a straight face, "Problems, Dave?"

Looking balefully over his shoulder, Dave looked at Will LaMontagne as he muttered under his breath, "She just warned me not to let anyone touch her belly thirty seconds ago. I was obeying the rules, man."

Shrugging easily, Will blinked and quoted, "Rule #14, amigo. The rules are subject to change for anyone, at any time, at the discretion of the expectant mother. Told ya to read the handbook, Dave."

Glancing down at a squirming Henry, Dave muttered with a growl, "Kid, Unca Dave needs a scotch in the worst way."

Shaking his head at the older father-to-be, Will grinned as he shook his head in the negative. "No can do, Kemo Sabe. Tell 'im, Henry. That flies directly in the face of Rule #73. As long as the little mama's in the family way, if she's off spirits, then so are you."

"Dave," Emily sighed as she rolled her eyes, holding out her arms for the baby, "Henry and I could use some cherry royale ice cream."

"I'm on it, Cara," Dave nodded, handing off the baby as JJ sat on the couch next to Emily's feet, knowing that his love would have help if she needed it. "And, you're helping," Dave growled, snatching Will's arm and dragging him toward the kitchen.

Waiting until the kitchen door swung shut behind them, Dave rounded on LaMontagne. "You," he said, jabbing a hand toward the young Cajun, "and your fucking rulebook never prepared me for the fact that Emily was going to become as crazy as some of the unsubs I've hunted down!"

Strolling toward the sleek chrome refrigerator, Will shook his head as he reached for the freezer door, looking casually over his shoulder. "See, there ya go again, Old Man. Breakin' Rule #8. Under no circumstance do ya ever use the word "crazy" or "hormonal" in association with the pregnant woman in question. You're just askin' to have Em'ly hand you your balls on a silver platter."

"LaMontagne, take your fucking rule book and shove it up your..."

"Ah, hell, Dave," Will groaned as he interrupted, staring at the contents of the freezer. Waving his hand in the appliance, he snorted, "You don't pay two shits to anything I tell ya!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dave growled, running a hand across the back of his neck as he stared in confusion at the younger man.

"Ain't no cherry royale in this here freezer, Big Guy," Will replied regretfully, shaking his head sadly at the stupidity of the older profiler.

"No! No, no, no, no!" Dave groaned, remembering the last time he'd unexpectedly ran out of Emily's favorite food of the moment. That fallout had been near catastrophic...accusations of him casually disregarding her wants and needs had flown for an entire night. Shoving Will aside, Dave frantically searched the deep freezer. He'd bought ten pints just four days ago in a monumental effort to avoid this very moment, hadn't he?

"It ain't there, Dave," Will remarked morosely. "Don't Rule #115 mean anything to you, man?"

"Stock your pregnant partner's favorite food of the moment ten deep at all times and stay abreast of the changes in said food," Rossi recited absently, the words literally flowing off his tongue without thought. "I DID that, damn it! We had two pints left last night!"

"Wait!" Will said, jabbing an excited finger over Rossi's shoulder as a small container caught his attention. "Back right corner, man!"

Grabbing the familiar black and red carton from the corner, Dave barely resisted the urge to release a victorious war cry. "We have one," he whispered instead, letting out the pent up breath he had been holding. "Thank you, God! We have one!" he said, turning to clutch Will's shoulder.

"This time," Will nodded, unable to resist the opportunity to press the man's buttons just a bit harder. "Pray she doesn't have a midnight craving."

Tightening his grip around the small frozen container, Rossi grabbed a silver spoon from the drawer, muttering under his breath as he stomped toward the living room, "I hate you, LaMontagne."

And he did his best to ignore the chuckles of laughter following him down the hallway.


	6. Chapter 6

******_Author's Note: Good eve, all! A quick thank you to everyone that continues to read, review, alert and favorite our stories. Please, let us continue to hear from each of you. As always, we enjoy hearing your thoughts and feelings on our stories - even when you don't particularly agree with the plotline. In other news, I will soon be starting a discussion forum called, "Idle Chit Chat on Author's Corner", where, hopefully, we can come together and learn more about each other and the challenges each of us face in writing. Subjects could include, finding a beta, dealing with writer's block, etc. And I'm also hoping to do one to one focus threads with authors on all ships and all pairings where we learn about their stories and the challenges they face. I think this could be a wonderful place where unique people could come together and enjoy themselves. And I really want to gauge the level of interest out there. Please let me know what you think of this idea! I really want to hear from you. Thanks again!_**

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Six**

Wincing as he punched at the microwave buttons, the sound of screaming starting again in the next room, Dave watched the turntable go round and round as he muttered to himself, "Thirty seconds. Thirty fucking seconds and we'll have something that will make him happy."

For the first fifteen minutes after his parents had left, Henry Jareau LaMontagne had been the perfect child, cooing and jabbering with a wide grin on his toothless mouth. He had gobbled the three small bites of ice cream that Emily had shared with him, giggled as Dave had rubbed his tummy, and kicked happily as they all had enjoyed a moment of calm while playing with his talking stuffed bear. Dave had honestly began to believe that this babysitting thing might not be nearly as difficult as he remembered it to be.

That's where he had gone wrong. He had tempted fate. And fate, being the capricious bitch that she was, decided to beat him about the head and shoulders with the proverbial baseball bat.

Honestly, it was if a switch had been flipped somewhere on the child. The seemingly happy baby went from grinning and cooing to what could only be described as an impression of the baby from the Exorcist, his head almost spinning three hundred and sixty degrees as he screamed at the top of his tiny lungs in bursts.

And this had been going on for a whole half hour. They would have a small two minute break, hope for a miracle, then the fire engine siren would start once again. There was no peace in the valley tonight.

Grabbing for the bottle as he heard the ding of the microwave, Dave shook it like JJ had taught him before and almost ran back into the living room. He had left Emily alone with the child for almost a whole minute, and he was deathly afraid of what he would be returning to. "Okay, Little Guy," Dave called out above the piercing cries of the baby, "Uncle Dave has the grub," he said, waving the bottle in the air as the baby's yells suddenly ceased, his dry blue eyes glued to the magical bottle.

Laughing as she shifted the baby in her arms, Emily reached for the still warm bottle in Dave's hand, easily popping the nipple in Henry's rounded mouth. "See, I told you that the bad man hadn't taken your bottles hostage."

Smiling as he took a seat beside Emily, Dave shook his head at the now happy baby. "Henry knows who his allies are, don't you, kiddo?" he murmured, rubbing the baby's foot as he devoured the bottle in minutes, his eyes growing heavier with every pull on the nipple.

"Think we'll be able to do this on a regular basis?" Emily asked quietly, watching the baby's face, rubbing a gentle finger against the slightly puffed cheek.

"Do what?" Dave asked absently, enjoying the silence after minutes upon minutes of shrill screams, the difference drastically obvious.

"Take care of a little one?" Emily replied, frowning up at him, narrowing her eyes at him as she wondered if he was actually listening to her.

"Of course we can," Dave answered, his eyes widening as he heard the serious undertone in her question, knowing that she was truly worried about this.

"You don't think I've bitten off more than I can chew?" Emily asked warily, shifting the baby against the roundness of her tummy.

"No!" Dave gaped, barely keeping himself from adding a few choice curse words to his reply. What the hell had brought this on? Especially now, of all times? "Emmy, I've never seen you not master whatever you set out to do. You're gonna be a fabulous mother."

"I don't feel fabulous right now," she whispered, pulling the nipple from Henry's slack mouth and wiping the drool from his cheek with the cloth diaper she had pulled from his bag earlier. Adjusting him in her arms, she muttered as she stared down at his fluttering eyes, "I feel fat and moody and morose."

"Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but you're gorgeous. And you're a little busy creating life, so I think you can be excused for the mood swings. As for being morose, honey, you're on the verge of giving birth. You're tired. I think moments of morose are par for the course," Dave replied tenderly, pressing a soft kiss to her dark head.

"Maybe," Emily murmured, shifting on the sofa, wincing involuntarily as she felt her back catch again, her daughter making her presence known.

"Here," Dave said softly, reaching for the baby currently trying to tuck his thumb into his mouth, "Let me lay him down," he suggested easily, his hands sliding beneath the warm body.

Nodding, Emily relinquished the sleeping boy into Dave's capable hands, watching as the older man moved to the portable crib and settled Henry inside. "You know you're going to be good, too," she smiled softly, easing her tired feet and legs up on the couch again as she leaned into the corner cushion.

"You think so?" Dave asked over his shoulder, finally satisfied that the baby looked relatively comfortable, draping a soft blanket over his tiny legs.

"I do," Emily nodded, reaching for an extra cushion. "I couldn't have chosen a better daddy for this peanut," she grinned, rubbing a hand against her swollen belly as she adjusted the pillow behind her back.

"I didn't give you much choice," Dave chuckled, remembering the road that had led him here, those long, long months fading quickly for a moment. "The idea of you and a turkey baster," he shuddered dramatically as he threw a pointed glare in her direction. "I still don't know what you were thinking."

"I was thinking that I wanted a baby," Emily replied, settling back against the couch with a sigh of comfortable relief. "But, I much preferred your method of conception," she winked.

"Good to know," Dave chuckled, dropping back to the sofa behind her and pulling her back into his arms, "since I don't plan on giving up those particular activities with you."

"Think you'll ever want to do this again?" Emily asked, leaning her head back against his neck as his hand rubbed soothing circles against the stretched skin of her stomach.

"Prentiss, I've learned with you to never say never," Dave chuckled against her ear, dropping his hand behind her to shift her pillow back into place. "But let's concentrate on getting this munchkin here before we go looking toward a future with any more kids, okay? One pregnancy is all I can comprehend at any given time."

"Fair enough," Emily nodded, relaxing against him with a slight yawn, their evening of babysitting having drained whatever energy reserves she might have once had.

Feeling the tension seeping from him as he held the woman he loved against him, Dave thought that maybe, just maybe that survived another day. Right up until he heard her soft, angelic voice ask ever so sweetly, "Dave, I want another cherry ice cream, honey."

God obviously had a wicked sense of humor.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Seven**

Smiling in absolute relief as he closed the door behind the combined Jareau-LaMontagne family, the sleeping Henry safely tucked in his mother's arms, Dave slid the deadbolt into place as he flipped off the foyer light. Padding back into the living room, he felt his grin growing as he stared down at the now-happy woman still curled on the couch, her hands wrapped around the small container as she dug her spoon into the frozen concoction.

Settling on the couch behind her, he asked as he peered over his shoulder, "Is it safe to assume that the ice cream is hitting the spot?"

Easily aiming her elbow back into his convenient ribs, Emily ignored his sudden grunt as she swallowed another spoonful of her favorite cherry ice cream. "No thanks to you, jackass. Thank God JJ made Will stop at the corner market on the way back here and restock my supply."

Carefully guarding his response, lest he see a repeat of the earlier multiple personalities that seemed to inhabit the woman he loved, Dave pressed a soft kiss to her hair as he murmured, "Yes, Will and JJ are wonderful people. I won't deny that at all. And now that they've taken their son home with them, you think you might like to move this little party on up to our bed for the night?"

Turning to look at him over her shoulder, she muttered around her spoon, eyes narrowing, "You just want me far away from the kitchen for a while, don't you?"

He could recognize a loaded question when he heard one, and he was bound and determined not to be trapped into such an obvious ambush. He had learned a few things over the past few months, thank you very much. Smoothing his hand over her silky hair, he replied evenly, "Honey, if you want to spend the night propped up right here on the couch, then this is where we'll stay. I was just thinking that you might be more comfortable in the bed. I know that it's about time for the munchkin to start her evening acrobatic routines, and you usually prefer to be lying down when that happens."

Dropping her now empty carton on the convenient coffee table, Emily sighed as she pushed up off the couch, staring down at the large bump that was now her stomach. Twisting her lips from side to side, she finally sighed, "I guess you're right. Your daughter is a creature of habit, Rossi. If she …."

But her words cut off suddenly as she moaned, her body jackknifing forward as she pressed her hands to her sides. "Oh, holy mother of God!" she ground out as she felt her entire lower stomach suddenly contort tightly.

Lurching toward her, Dave quickly eased Emily back on the couch as she struggled to catch her breath, her cheeks reddening as she kept her hands pressed against her tummy. "Emmy?!" Dave barked, sliding his hand over her distended stomach as he kept his eyes glued to hers, "What the hell was that?"

Gasping as she blew the hair out of her eyes, Emily growled as she winced again, "Why're you asking me? Do I look like I've done this before, Rossi?"

Opening his mouth to deliver a scathing retort, Dave quickly bit his tongue just in time. Rule #422 clearly stated that under no circumstances was the expectant father ever to issue anything but the most positive statements, even in the face of dire circumstances. And by the grimace blanketing her beautiful face, this situation was rapidly escalating from serious to dire without passing go or collecting two hundred dollars. Never let it be said that pregnancy played fair.

Information was power, right? And right now, he was completely clueless. Shaking his head as he covered her hands with his, he replied, keeping his voice calm, "Sweetheart, you gotta give me some data to go on here. Did she kick?"

"No, you idiot, she didn't kick. She punted! My kidneys into my throat, I think," Emily gasped out as a violent pain racked through her body again. "Oh God," she groaned as she jerked forward again, bending forward over her knees again, or as much as her stomach would allow at any rate. "This hurts! Your child is deliberately attempting to rip apart my stomach."

"I'm sure she's not doing it intentionally, babe," Dave soothed, running his hand up and down her curved spine as he frowned, mentally reviewing every piece of pregnancy, labor, and baby information that he had crammed into his mind over these last few months. And damn it all to hell, not a bit of it made any sense now!

"She's your child! Of course it's intentional!" Emily argued, her cheeks reddening with exertion. "Damn," Emily bit out, staring down at her stomach in horror, her eyes widening, "Dave lift my shirt," Emily ordered through gritted teeth, grabbing for his hands. "Make sure it's not like in Alien when the thing clawed its way out that poor woman's belly!"

Biting back a laugh at his normally staid partner's theatrics, Rule #47 echoed through his mind immediately. Never, ever laugh at a pregnant woman's irrational fears. Even when they're convinced that that the baby might be born with two heads, spinning yellow eyes, or purple polka-dotted skin. "Honey, I'm fairly certain that's anatomically impossible."

"I don't put anything past your child," Emily panted, sweat trickling down her temple as the pain finally passed. "I think she's easing," Emily whispered, almost afraid her voice would spook her unborn daughter into retaliation, truly believing that the child in her womb could read her mind.

"Maybe we should call the doctor," Dave suggested, sliding his hand over her less taut belly, letting out his own sigh of relief.

"Shhh...don't say that too loud," Emily growled, swatting his leg as she leaned against his shoulder for a moment. "She'll hear you and take it out on me."

"Cara, I don't think our daughter has learned the fine art of revenge yet," Dave chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he tenderly swept his hand against her perspiring neck.

"Don't bet on it," Emily grumbled as she felt the pain building in her lower stomach again. "Oh, God, Dave," she winced, grabbing his hand in a steely grip, "It's happening again," she moaned as she pressed her feet flat against the floor, trying to find a way to send that pain into the next stratosphere.

"Emily," Dave said calmly, stealing a look at the clock on the wall as he studiously ignored the vise grip against his fingers, "that was quick. I think maybe we need to think about moving this party toward that nice maternity floor at GW Memorial."

"What?" Emily frowned, jerking her head up to look at him with wide eyes, her breath coming quickly as she fought the growing tightness in her body. "Absolutely not! It's not time yet! I still have fourteen more days. She's got a schedule," Emily argued, shaking her head as the pressure built in her abdomen, pulling a groan from her throat.

Okay, he knew Rule #31 stated that you should never disagree with a pregnant woman. And Rule # 150 stressed to never assume that you knew the pregnant woman's body better than she did. But honest to God, there had to be a clause for extenuating circumstances somewhere!. And these circumstances were definitely classified as extenuating in his opinion. "Babe, I don't think our girl's gonna be a big believer in that schedule of yours. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only schedule she cares about is her own."

"Figures," Emily moaned as she let him help her up off the couch. "Like father, like daughter."


	8. Chapter 8

**_Author's Note: Thanks for reading, everyone. Just a note, we'll be back on Friday. Thanks!_**

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Eight**

His arm firmly wrapped around Emily's waist in spite of her stiff posture, Dave muttered as the elevator doors dinged open, "It's about time. Damned slowest elevator in the world."

Smacking as his hand as she kept her other hand pressed to her growing stomach, Emily glared at him as she snapped, "Listen, Rossi, let's get one thing straight. You don't get to complain about anything, got it? I'm the one who has Rosemary's Baby trying to be born here. Pay attention!"

"I am, cara, I am," Dave assured her quickly, well aware of that tone that had once again appeared in her tense voice. For the entire fifteen minute ride to the hospital, he had become extremely aware of that specific tone, having heard it constantly as she vacillated between urging him to drive faster before the child managed to completely rip all of her internal organs out with a pitchfork and ordering him to turn around and take her back home, certain that they were on a fool's errand. As far as he was concerned, he would willingly be called a fool for the rest of his life just to avoid possibly having to deliver his own daughter because her mother refused to believe she was in labor. Glancing down at her again as they stepped out into the fluorescent lit hallway, he asked, for the third time, "Honey, you sure you don't want a wheelchair?"

"No wheelchair!" Emily bit out as she aimed toward the nurse's desk at the entrance to the Maternity Floor. "I'm not in labor, so there's no reason to act like I am!"

Meeting the eyes of the kindly-looking older black woman standing with a clipboard behind the desk, Dave said quickly, "Emily Prentiss. We're pre-registered. And it appears we might be in labor."

"There's no WE to this, you jackass," Emily muttered as she turned toward the nurse. Rolling her eyes, she added, her tone suddenly turning more professional, "HE's overreacting. I've not had a pain in the last ten minutes. I'm sure it's absolutely nothing. I almost hate to have to waste your time."

"Actually, it was seven minutes," Dave told the harried looking nurse behind the desk, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the woman that had suddenly developed qualities similar to the most psychotic serial killer.

"What, do you have a stopwatch or something?" Emily asked waspishly, turning her head to glare at the man beside her, her dark eyes blazing in condemnation as she kept both hands pressed flat against her stomach.

"You told me to time the pains, Cara," Dave groaned, plaintively staring across the desk at the medical professional with pleading eyes. "Could you please page her doctor? Dr. Samuel Nelson."

"I don't know why you insist on dragging that poor man out of bed in the dead of night, Dave," Emily snorted, rolling her eyes. "I hope he charges you double."

"Em, it's barely past eleven," Dave murmured, sparing a longing glance at the coffee machine in the corner, wondering if there was any possible way that he could sneak a cup of the potent brew. But with his luck, the moment the woman beside him realized he had touched caffeine in her presence, he would find himself wearing that hot liquid.

Tapping her keyboard, the patient nurse glanced upward, her eyes confused. "Prentiss, you said?"

"Oh, God," Emily groaned, her glare growing deeper with each passing second. "Tell me I'm in the system." Smacking Dave's arm, she growled, "You swore you completed my preregistration paperwork. If I have to give birth to your child in the hallway because you..."

Shifting her gaze from the furious brunette to the beleaguered man at her side, the nurse interrupted quickly, her voice conciliatory, "It's here, Ms. Prentiss. Right here," she said, tapping the screen. Waving a hand toward a passing orderly, she continued, "If you'll just take a seat in the wheelchair, we're going to put you in Exam room four and page your doctor. But, our resident on call will be in to see you in just a few minutes."

Releasing a relieved breath, Dave watched as Emily grudgingly lowered herself into the wheelchair. Okay, he had her admitted to this very capable maternity floor. He could breathe now, knowing that he had completed his part of the assigned mission. Eyes drifting toward the coffee machine once more, he sighed heavily. One cup. One fortifying cup. That was all he needed. He was sure of it. He had firm belief in the healing powers of that amazing product. Hearing Emily's strident voice call, "Are you coming?", Dave's eyes snapped toward her, immediately alert, knowing that the magical moment of reprieve had passed. "Right behind you, Cara," he called back, giving the machine one last yearning look over his shoulder.

Helping her onto the bed a few seconds later, he couldn't help the smile that emerged as he stared down at her. "You're glowing," he murmured, tenderly sweeping his finger against her flushed cheek, all other thoughts slipping from his mind.

"I'm sweating," Emily corrected, blowing at her bangs as she stared belligerently at the ceiling, wondering for the umpteenth time exactly how she allowed this man to suddenly control her life.

Hearing Will LaMontagne's voice in his mind recite Rule #83, 'Never placate a pregnant woman,', Dave wisely kept his mouth shut as he heard the door open behind him.

"Ms. Prentiss?" a white coated lady questioned, glancing down at the chart in her hands.

"That's me," Emily replied, pushing her fists into the thin mattress and scooting upwards in the bed, a perfect smile playing on her lips as she greeted the newcomer.

Nodding, the older, bespectacled lady moved forward. "Dr. Perkins. I'm the OB on call this evening. Your doctor has been paged and is on his way in, but I thought we'd go ahead and hook you up to the monitors and do a quick ultrasound and see what we've got going on tonight."

Nodding quickly, Emily replied, "We'd appreciate that. Perhaps you can convince him," she said, jerking her head toward Dave, narrowing here eyes dangerously, "that our child is going to stay on schedule."

Smiling, Dr. Perkins professionally moved aside Emily's gown, prepping her belly for the ultrasound. "Babies are tricky. I've learned to expect the unexpected. And better safe than sorry," she murmured, pressing the ultrasound's wand against Emily's belly as all three sets of eyes in the room fixed on the small, grainy black and white picture on the screen.

Laughing happily as the room was filled with the familiar whooshing sound of their baby's heartbeat, Emily reached for Dave's hand. "There she is," Emily sighed, unwilling to admit how much relief that sound provided her, her fingers tightening against his.

"Yep," the doctor nodded, watching the screen for another moment as she shifted the wand again, "And it's a good strong, rate, too. I'm not seeing any signs of distress."

"Good," Dave said, his voice containing a first-time father's obvious relief, his eyes flipping from the moving picture of his little girl to her mother lying in the bed.

"Okay," Dr. Perkins nodded, dropping the wand back into the cart's receptacle and wiping the gel from Emily's belly. "So far, so good. Let's get you on the monitor and measure you for any contractions."

"How long do I have to stay?" Emily asked as the doctor wrapped her belly with the nylon straps, focusing the sensors at various spots on her stomach.

"Well, you'll see your regular doctor for your internal in a few minutes, but I'd say we'll monitor for at least an hour, providing we don't see anything," the doctor informed them professionally, carefully avoiding any words that might signify any commitment of any form.

"I told you this was a waste of time," Emily grumbled to Dave, sighing impatiently as the doctor patted her arm before slipping from the room.

"Uh huh...and you'd be calling me every name under the sun if I had to deliver our child in the living room. I'd rather have you mad at me for this," Dave shrugged as he eased down on the edge of the bed next to the woman he loved.

"Don't worry, I will be," Emily muttered, her eyes glued to the small jumping monitor, the heartbeat of their baby steady and strong.

"I can live with that," Dave murmured, bending to press a quieting kiss against her lips as he pressed a hand against her stomach, cradling them both.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Author's Note: Several notes today. Thanks to everyone still reading, reviewing, alerting and favoriting this story. We truly appreciate hearing from each one of you. Our new discussion forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" is now up and running. Last I looked, it's the last forum listed on page two. Please go take a look. Ideally, it will have an update per day. Please let us know of any threads you'd like to discuss. "Getting To Know You" interviews will hopefully begin on Monday. This will probably be our last update until Sunday night._**

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Nine**

Climbing behind the steering wheel as he let out a pent up sigh of relief, Dave glanced over at the obviously disgruntled woman sitting stiffly in the passenger seat. The interior light of the vehicle gave him just enough light to see the growing frown on her normally sweet face. Starting the truck as he slipped on his seat belt, he said, deliberately keeping his voice even, "Okay, let's do what that doctor said and get you home and tucked back in bed."

"I could have been there all along if you hadn't acted like such a freaking cave man and dragged me in to the hospital against my will!" Emily snorted as she stared straight ahead, her hands propped tightly on top of the rounded mound of her belly.

"Look, Em, we've been over this and over this for the past two hours," Dave said calmly, pulling the truck out onto the main road, traffic almost non-existent at the not so pleasant hour of one in the morning. "We had no way of knowing those pains were just false labor. Remember what the doctor said? It's always better to be safe than sorry."

"Oh, I remember a lot. I remember me telling you that you were overacting. I remember me telling you that I know my body, Dave, far better than you do," Emily retorted, then smiled victoriously as she added, "And I was right, wasn't I? I knew my little girl wouldn't do this to her mother. She's much better mannered than to arrive unannounced in the middle of the night!"

""Why was it that she was my kid earlier when we thought she was going to arrive early?" he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he once again pondered the capriciousness of the female mind.

"What was that?" Emily snapped out, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she shifted in his direction, tugging mightily at the uncooperative seatbelt that was threatening to cut off her circulation in all the important places.

"Nothing, cara. Just thinking out loud," he replied quickly, turning a soft smile in her direction, belatedly reminding himself of Rule 512, which stated that the expectant father was to never, under any circumstances, have an original or differing thought in the presence of the expectant mother. Violating this rule would result in the immediate removal of his brain through processes that even the most vile horror film villain would find to be horrendous.

Any comment she might have been thinking of uttering stalled as they both heard Dave's cell phone ring, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet vehicle. "I swear to God, Rossi, if that's anything remotely related to work, I'm going to personally throw that phone out the window and tell God it died of natural causes!"

Glancing in her direction as he quickly grabbed for the offending instrument, Dave winced as he saw JJ's number popping up insistently. "It's just JJ, Em. I kinda forgot to call her back when we found out everything was okay."

"Call her back? Why did you call her in the first place?" Emily asked, her eyes flashing as she leaned her head back against the headrest.

Turning to look at her incredulously, Dave groaned before he could stop himself, "Babe, you've been drilling into me for the past month that JJ is to be my first phone call, remember? You've even made me practice! If I hadn't called her, you both would have publicly strung me up from the nearest tree!"

"I said to make sure you called her when I went into labor," Emily corrected, shaking her head and pursing her lips as she snatched the phone from his hand. "Do I look like I'm in labor here?" she asked, holding her arms aloft, the phone dangling precariously from her fingers. "Do I sound like I'm in labor?" she asked pointing to her lips. Snatching one of his hands from the steering wheel, she jerked it to her belly. "Does it feel like I'm in labor, Dave?" she asked grumpily as the phone rang in her free hand once again.

Pursing his lips as he offered her a sidelong glance, Dave clenched his jaw. Rule #600, Dave, his mind yelled. Rule #600! Never allow the irate pregnant woman to goad you into an unwise, unsafe answer. You will deservingly reap her wrath if you make the mistake. So, in deference to the Pregnancy Playbook, Dave swallowed his scathing retort, letting the words choke in his throat. "Answer the phone, Cara," he urged instead, determined for them both to make it home in one piece. "Otherwise, I don't put it past JJ to call out the National Guard or have Garcia activate the GPS chips in our phones."

"It would serve you right," Emily grumbled darkly, punching the button on the phone before saying sweetly, "Hey, JJ..."

Sybil...he was in love with Sybil. Multiple personalities abounded inside the woman beside him; he just knew it. It was the only logical reason that she could shift so seamlessly from demented to sweet within the same heartbeat. Oh, he knew she would say that it was due to the company she had, but he knew the truth. The love of his life was cracking up. And doing her dead level best to take him along on the crazy train she currently rode. And he was beginning to feel that she might have been slightly successful, the last few hours making him believe that the only way to beat her might be to join her on these fanatical flights of fancy.

Not that he'd ever share those thoughts. No. Oh, hell no. He didn't need any handbook to tell him that he'd be risking his life by uttering his suspicions. Nope, that grim knowledge lived in his lover's eyes. How those stunning orbs hadn't changed to red and glowing soul-sucking pits, he wasn't sure.

But there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Upon extensive questioning earlier tonight, their obstetrician had assured him once again that, yes, eventually his daughter would make her debut. She had not decided to simply set up camp inside her mother's womb, spending the rest of eternity happily playing with all of those ever so convenient internal organs. And that with her arrival, those hormonal surges that his love regularly experienced would, indeed, subside.

There was hope. It might feel distant. But like objects in the rearview mirror, it was closer than it appeared.

And David Rossi couldn't wait.


	10. Chapter 10

******_Author's Note: Thanks to everyone still reading and reviewing our stories. We adore hearing from you. A few housekeeping notes for today...two interviews with two of our amazing fellow authors have been posted today at the discussion forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner". Foreverpadfoot and Dustytiger graciously agreed to be my first participants. Please check out their interviews at the forum and take a look at some of their wonderful work. If anyone has a favorite author that they'd like to see interviewed or learn more about, shoot me a PM and I'll see if they're amenable. As always, I really love hearing from you guys! It's an honor to be allowed to write for you. Thanks, again._**

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Ten**

Smiling as he opened the back door to the home that he shared with Emily, Dave let out a sigh of relief as he dropped the four overflowing bags of groceries onto the granite counter. Quickly emptying the plastic bags, he methodically reviewed the various items against the list that he had been given earlier that afternoon. One too many extra trips back to that godforsaken overcrowded hellhole that someone dared to call a supermarket had taught him the importance of triple checking before Emily checked it for him.

Four large cartons of Ben & Jerry's Banana Daiquiri ice cream, the new favorite of the week. Check. A twelve pack of ginger ale in the can. Check. The floral scented Dawn dishwashing detergent because the antiseptic one now made her sick. Check. Ten Dove milk chocolate bars. Check. Her refilled prenatal vitamin prescription. Check. And, finally, two dozen free range brown eggs in recyclable cartons to replace the plain white eggs in a Styrofoam container that he had accidentally brought home the day before. Check.

Sliding all the items into their proper locations, he noticed that the kitchen seemed to be exceptionally clean, even by her normally obsessive standards. But he refused to question anything that she might have done, Rule 21 firmly in his mind: Never doubt, question or imply anything about the motives or intentions of the pregnant woman in any form or fashion.

Dave dusted off his hands as he moved toward the hallway, calling out her name. "Emily! I'm home, babe. Where are you?"

Looking upstairs as he heard her voice call his name, he tried to determine if he heard any indication in her voice that would imply his impending doom. Hearing nothing but her normal, pre-pregnancy tone filling her voice, he cheerfully took to the stairs , entering their bedroom with a smile on his lips.

That was, until he stared around said room. And as he saw the stacks upon stacks of HIS clothes and personal belongings strewn from side to side, he felt that grin began to fade.

Turning to look at the woman standing calmly before their joint walk in closet, he asked, slowly and carefully, "Em, honey, is something going on that you want to tell me about?"

In the process of emptying yet another of his drawers onto the floor, Emily glanced over her shoulder as she caught the surprised look in his eyes and bit back a grin. "Worried, Dave?"

Glancing around the room again as he leaned against the door frame, Dave smartly noted the absence of any suitcases or boxes. "Well, since you aren't actually packing my things into a box, I'm gonna say that I at least still have a place to sleep. Hopefully."

"I have just one question, Dave. When was the last time you went through anything?" Emily snorted, throwing another pair of ratty socks toward the trash can in the corner, the fabric ball bouncing off the wall and dropping on top of the overflowing container.

"Uh...I think Reagan was in office," Dave joked, watching as the brunette beauty he'd decided to spend his life with mercilessly began removing several of his older shirts from their hangers. "Honey? What are you doing with those?" Dave asked with wide eyes, watching as she shoved her pile into a giant trash bag. "I still wear those."

"Not anymore," Emily shook her head, deftly knotting the black plastic. "Dave, the elbows in these flannel shirts are threadbare, for heaven's sake," she declared, rolling her eyes as she watched his face flush.

"But..."

"But, nothing. You're a very wealthy man. I think you can afford to update your wardrobe," Emily shrugged as she moved on to her next mission, opening his jeans drawer next.

"But I like my wardrobe," Dave whined, wincing as he watched her begin to ruthlessly discard the items she deemed unworthy. Stomping toward the dresser, he covered her fingers with his. "If you think about it, all these pieces tell a story," Dave said, attempting to slip his favorite pair of jeans from her nimble fingers. Sure, they had a hole in the knee, but, after fifteen years of faithful service, they were finally molded to his ass just the way he liked. He couldn't pay for that type of comfort, now could he?

"Yes," Emily drawled, smacking at his fingers as she yanked the jeans form his hands and turned toward the other side of the room. "Let me surmise it for you. It says that you're too lazy to replace old and ratty items of clothing." Pulling a light blue suit out of the depths of his closet, she held it aloft, wrinkling her nose in dismay at the obvious lack of fashion sense that her child's father obviously possessed. "Seriously, Dave...this thing has ruffles."

"Okay," Dave admitted, holding up his hands as he granted that one fashion mistake. "I might be a bit of a pack rat. But..."

"But you're going to turn over a new leaf," Emily supplied, nodding helpfully as she threw the vintage tuxedo on the bed. "Aren't you?" she asked, raising a brow that defied him to argue with her superior intelligence.

Sighing heavily, Dave hung his head as he attempted to avoid locking her in the closet that she had just cleaned out. He knew what this was. There was a whole chapter in that stupid parenting book he'd read about it. Nesting. His Emily was nesting. And Rule # 832 in LaMontagne's fucking handbook clearly stated that if his partner was nesting, by default, so was he.

Nesting, he thought grimly as Emily reached for his tie rack on the back of his closet door, her intentions clear. She was nesting. Nothing and no one was safe during this season of their lives.

"When was the last time you even wore a tie, Dave?" Emily asked in disgust, her fingers slipping the ties off the metal with an economy of motion, deftly choosing the worst of the lot.

Ha! He had an answer for that one. "Last week. You insisted that I couldn't approach a dinner table where your mother was seated without one," he proclaimed victoriously, a tight smile on his lips as he grabbed for his favorite red and black tie before it disappeared forever. "It might have offended the Ambassador's delicate sensibilities."

"Was that a swipe at my mother, Rossi?" Emily growled, turning sharply to narrow her gaze on the man she loved.

Oh, hell. Crazy eyes. He had seen them many times throughout these blessed months, and now they had appeared once again. At least they weren't red and glowing. He knew from experience that he had a limited time to respond before this escalated into a full blown screamfest and the window was rapidly closing. "Of course not," Rossi lied smoothly, shaking his head as he dropped the tie, reaching out a hand to smooth across her tight jaw. "I think your mother is a wonderful person. And out of respect for her, I wore a tie. I was only answering your question, Cara."

Looking at him suspiciously, Emily finally nodded. "Okay, then," she murmured, turning back toward the closet, her task far from complete.

Releasing his held breath, Dave scrubbed his hands down his face, thanking whatever deity that was listening for a quick intervention. Crisis averted.

For the moment.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Author's Note: Thank you so much for the continued support of the readers. Your reviews and PMs mean a lot! Please check out the new thread on our discussion forum "Chit Chat on Author's Corner". It's called "The Power of the Almighty Review". Thanks!!_**

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Eleven**

Of everything Emily Prentiss could have just announced, David Rossi was not expecting this.

At this point in the pregnancy, he thought he was well-prepared for almost everything, half-way expecting at any given time that she would announce such things like the fact that aliens had landed on the roof and she had invited them to move into the guest bedroom while they planned for world domination. Or that she had decided to sell all of his assets and move them to a commune in Montana where they would spend the rest of their days growing sunflowers and wearing clothing made from hemp.

But he was not expecting this.

Shaking his head as he dropped down heavily on the couch beside her, Dave forced himself to breath slowly as he said, "Em, honey, I think I just misheard you. You couldn't have just said that you wanted to give birth at home, did you?"

Raising one eyebrow as she cocked her head, Emily replied, one hand on her massive stomach, "Yes, Dave, I did. I've been reading all day today, and the more I think about it, I want our child to be born in the very home that she will be living."

"But, Emily, we've already arranged things for the hospital, remember? We're pre-registered. We've been there already on a few trial runs. I thought you liked your doctor and the hospital," Dave said, running his hand over his face as he felt the twitch in his jaw start again. Hell, who was he kidding? That twitch had become a permanent part of his anatomy now, the last three months having sent him into a neurological disorder that would only be cured when his daughter arrived safe and sound.

"Plans can change, Dave," Emily snorted, waving a hand in the air as she shifted her legs, propping them on the coffee table in front of them as she stared down at her ankles. Ankles that were now the size of grapefruits, she thought darkly.

"No, Cara," Dave shook his head, "not these plans," he said, swallowing heavily. Dear God in heaven, he thought looking at her determined face, she was serious. She was actually giving this ludicrous plan steadfast deliberation. He could see it in the set of her stubborn little chin.

Don't call her plan crazy, he coached himself sternly. Resist, Rossi! Resist!

But once again, his better angels seemed to be on the outs with his inner devil and before he knew it, his deep voice was growling, "Now, you've gone and lost your fucking mind! If I doubted it before, this proves it!"

"Pardon me?" Emily asked slowly, turning toward him as her eyes narrowed.

"No. Not just no...fuck, no, Emily! We are not having our baby without the benefit of the damn doctor we took a friggin' month to pick out and all the drugs I can talk those leeches into pumping into MY arm!"

"You're not being reasonable, Dave," Emily sighed, lifting a hardback book from the coffee table beside her. Flipping to the bookmark close to the back cover, she pushed it toward him as she said, "You haven't even read..."

"I don't need to read anything," Dave said, pushing the book she thrust toward him away, reminding himself to have a chat with JJ about letting Emily borrow a new book every week. "I know everything I need to know....the location of the hospital and that doctor's cell phone number. Trust me, I'm locked and loaded," he retorted, crossing his arms belligerently across his chest as he glared down into her determined black eyes.

"David!" Emily growled, hitting him hard with the book, the whack across his upper bicep sounding throughout the room, "You could at least take a look and make an informed decision!"

"I'm informed," Dave returned evenly, pulling slightly out of her reach. "Hell, I even fixed the GPS in the SUV to calculate the fastest route to GW, no matter where in the city we are. I'm informed and prepared."

"Well, since the baby is coming out of me, I'd say I've got the deciding vote," Emily responded with narrowed eyes. "Wouldn't you?" she asked sweetly.

"Emmy," Dave groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face as he recognized that tone once again. "Don't do this to me," he begged, his dark eyes beseeching her to be reasonable, although he had a feeling that might be a losing battle. "I've been a good partner, haven't I? Hell, I'd be a good husband, too, if you'd only say yes. Don't make me into the asshole in this scenario, babe."

"And how would I be able to do that? You're doing an excellent job of it on your own," Emily replied sharply, smacking him with the book again, well prepared to use the educational tone to beat some sense into his obvious uneducated body.

"Honey, neither one of us is exactly in the spring of our lives here," Dave began, striving to remain patient...loving, even, as he stared into the flashing eyes of the woman beside him.

"Did you honestly just imply that I'm old?" Emily shrieked, propelling her body from the couch with an ease that she hadn't known she still possessed at this advanced stage. "NOW?? Really?"

"Cara, that's not what I meant!" Dave groaned, rising to follow the woman he loved as she stomped into their bedroom.

"I don't think I want to know what YOU meant, Rossi," Emily hissed, rounding on him as she slapped her hands to his chest, shoving him backward with surprising strength. "I'm in the prime of my life. YOU'RE the one that's past his prime!"

Damn, damn, damn! How the hell had he managed to step into this fucking minefield? Where the hell were LaMontagne's rules for this particular situation? Rules he could really fucking use right now, by the way! Because he was pretty sure that Emily would find fault with any logic he used at the moment, he wisely kept his mouth shut, simply allowing the small woman to waddle from one side of the room to the other, muttering her rage in a wide variety of languages.

Those years spent in every remote Eastern European country were apparently paying off, weren't they?

Finally stepping in front of her as he noticed her becoming winded, he gently took her shoulders, guiding her backward to sit on the edge of the bed. Crouching in front of her, he immediately recognized the hurt in her eyes, her fears of her age affecting their child from earlier in the pregnancy hovering in her gaze. "Listen to me, Cara," Dave said softly, stroking his fingers against her neck. "I don't think you're old. I think that I want you and our daughter to be as safe as hospital when she chooses to arrive. And we both know that the hospital is the best place for that to happen."

"You said..." Emily began, cheeks flushing with ire as she straightened her shoulders, pressing one hand down against the mattress.

"I say a lot of things," Dave replied, shaking his head, "and you only pay attention to the stuff that comes out wrong," he moaned, pressing his forehead to hers as he cupped her neck. "I love you and I'm terrified of something happening, Cara. For my sanity, please, let's stick with our original plan. If this one goes like the clockwork our doctor promises that he expects it to, we'll investigate the other way next time around, okay?"

"Okay," Emily sniffled, letting her hand creep up to rest against his arm, plucking absently at the edge of his sleeve. "Even though I'll be even older," she muttered, half to herself as much to him.

"Yeah, but maybe I'll be saner," Dave murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead, a kiss of relief as much as comfort.

"I doubt it," Emily whined, leaning her head against her lover's shoulder as she let herself rest completely in his embrace.

Maybe, just maybe, Dave told himself as he felt her relax against him, maybe they had just avoided the crisis du jour. But then the voice in the back of his head reminded him that he shouldn't celebrate the victory too soon. They still had a few days before their baby was to be born, and he was fairly certain that there were many more battles to be fought.


	12. Chapter 12

******_Author's Note: Thanks to everyone following, reviewing, alerting and favoriting our stories. We continue to appreciate your ongoing support. Please, travel over to our discussion forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner". Today we've posted a great "Getting To Know" interview with the very talented hxchick, author of "An Unconventional Family". As ever, we don't own Criminal Minds._**

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Twelve**

Staring down at the typed piece of paper in his hands, David Rossi read the words for the third time. Surely he was imagining this. Surely this wasn't happening to him, was it? Surely fate wasn't this capricious and vindictive. Surely.

But no matter what he thought about the matter, apparently some higher power had chosen this moment in time to completely screw with him and his well-ordered plans. Groaning as he checked the information once again, he knew that he had to immediately rectify this situation before any more time lapsed.

And before Emily found out about it.

Oh good God. Emily. Please, he frantically begged whoever or whatever deity that was listening, don't let her even have an inkling this was happening, even though it was not at all his fault. Not at all. The fallout would border on national disaster level if she ever did, and after the last few months, he was certain his defenses were not strong enough to withstand whatever punishment she would lob in his direction. He was man enough to admit when he knew he wasn't capable of fighting without reinforcements, and this was the time.

Glancing up sharply at the knock on his door, Dave shoved the legal papers under his blotter quickly as he saw the smiling face of his beloved. Oh sweet Jesus, she was here already, and, in typical Emily fashion, ahead of schedule. Standing up, he said with a calm smile meant to distract her, "Hey, babe. I thought we still had twenty minutes. We were going to meet downstairs so you wouldn't have to walk from the parking garage, weren't we?"

Propping one hand on her lower back as she moved steadily into his office, Emily rolled her eyes as she eased down into his convenient visitor's chair. "Quit worrying about me, Dave. Garcia commandeered the closest handicap space and threatened the guards if they so much as looked at her vehicle. Then she ran point in the elevator in case someone attempted to lay a finger on my belly. And after that, JJ and I have been catching up on the top ten reasons Will is in the doghouse this week."

"Well, that explains why she refused to even answer me this morning when I asked if Will had tickets to the game this weekend," Dave replied with a wince of support for the younger man, moving around the desk as he grabbed his sports jacket. "So, are you all set to head to the doctor's office?"

"In a minute, Dave," Emily replied, cocking her eyebrow as she shifted in the seat, stretching out her legs as she tried to ease the pressure in her lower back. She hadn't spent the last nine months living with this man without learning a few things about his behavior, and the actions she was observing now told her he was attempting to hide something important from her. Something highly important, if that twitch in his eye was an indication. Motioning toward his desk, she asked, voice neutral and controlled, "Want to tell me what you just stuffed underneath your blotter? What don't you want me seeing, Dave?"

Of course she had noticed that, he groaned to himself, forcing his face to remain completely neutral even though he desperately wanted to immediately declare his innocence. Rule Number 810 stated that all pregnant women have the investigative skills of a bloodhound, having developed the ability to see out of the back of their heads if necessary. Apparently this was in preparation for motherhood, but right now, it was just damn annoying.

Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, Emily pursed her lips as she pressed her hands against the wooden armrests. "You know I hate lies...but more than that, I think I hate deception. So, do us both a favor and don't try either, Dave," she warned evenly.

"I don't want to upset you, Cara," Dave replied uncertainly, his eyes flickering back, guiltily he supposed, toward those hidden papers. "Especially before I have a chance to try and work some magic."

"I'm already getting upset, Dave," Emily replied, tapping her foot loudly against the floor. "Just tell me what's going on," she demanded.

Pulling out the papers that he'd shoved beneath his blotter, Dave held them tightly against his chest as he made one final pitch for absolution. "I want you to remember that this isn't my fault."

"WHAT isn't your fault?" Emily asked as she pushed up out of the chair, eyeing the papers in his hand and holding out her own, palm up, a silent demand for the information.

Sighing heavily, Dave gently released his grips on the now crumpled documents and silently began to pray as her eyes narrowed on the typed words.

"No," Emily said simply, firmly shaking her head as she slapped his papers against his chest a minute later. "Absolutely not."

"That's what I said, Cara. But I really don't see how..." Dave began, abruptly closing his mouth as he watched a thunderous expression descend over his lover's face.

"Fix it," Emily demanded, her words clipped and precise inside his suddenly small and suffocating office. "I mean it, Dave. FIX. THIS."

"Honey," Dave groaned in protest, holding the papers in front of him, "THIS," he pointed at the legal document, "is a LEGAL subpoena requiring me to attend the trial of a man I put behind bars."

"Yeah," Emily snapped, narrowing her eyes again at the offending document, "in TEXAS on my DUE DATE...our due date...as in, the day our daughter is due to be born!" Emily shouted at the top of her lungs, her words bouncing from wall to wall. "So, I say again, FIX THIS!"

"Babe, what do you expect me to do? I promise you that I'm going to do everything within my power to..."

"What do I expect?" Emily yelled, cutting him off as she slammed her hand against his chest, capturing the papers in the process. "I expect you to be present...as in standing next to me, holding my hand...when I give birth to YOUR child, Rossi! I don't care who you have to call in favors from...who you have to bribe OR who you have to have offed. GET IT DONE!"

And with those parting words, David Rossi watched the love of his life storm out his office door, her legs waddling faster than he had seen her move in months. "Damn," he murmured, dropping into the chair behind his desk as he reached frantically for his address book. He'd seen his Emily in a vast array of different moods during the past nine months. Elated, happy, sad, depressed, scared...hell, the list was infinite. But, he was beyond positive that he had NEVER seen his woman, hell, any woman, THAT enraged before. And flipping through the pages of his trusty book quickly, he began dialing the governor of Texas.

With any luck, if he couldn't get out of this in a manner that would satisfy the woman he loved, maybe he could convince the governor to just execute him instead. Anything would be better than facing Emily's wrath again.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Author's Note: Once again, thanks to everyone for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and alerting our stories! We know that your time is valuable, and we appreciate your willingness to read and let us know what you are thinking. We'll be taking a break over the weekend, and hope to post again on either Monday or Tuesday.**_

_**Please check out our forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner." We'll be posting a new topic later today and would love to hear from you! You can access the forum on either the forum page or by visiting my profile page (ilovetvalot) and clicking "My Forums."**_

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Forty minutes and five phone calls later, David Rossi let out a small sigh of relief as he hung up the receiver. With a bit of luck, a lot of cursing, and a few well placed threats along the way, he might have just met Emily's demands and fixed what had appeared to be an unfixable situation. Maybe.

For a few moments there, he was certain the Lone Star State's top politician was going to demand his first-born child as payment for the schedule change, but a few well-placed reminders about the skeletons that only Rossi knew the location of had changed the man's mind fairly quickly. Hell, at this point, he would have gladly taken out billboards from El Paso to Waco telling every Texan about the governor's affection for a certain strip bar and less-than-camera-ready lady of the night in Vegas if it would have swayed the matter in his direction.

All was fair in love and war…and Dave had a feeling that this situation was definitely both.

Rolling down his shirt sleeves as he pushed up from his seat, he looked up again in surprise as his office door slammed open with a violent snap, an obviously irate Jennifer Jareau glaring at him from the frame. "What the hell are you doing, Rossi? Do you not realize that the mother of your child is not in any condition to even CONSIDER changes in her life at this moment?"

Wincing at the high pitch screech that seemed to bounce around his office, Dave pasted on his best smile as he reminded himself that although JJ was his teammate and a valued friend, she was first and foremost Emily's strongest friend and staunchest ally. Pissing off the blonde would not earn him any brownie points in any area of his life. "JJ, it's taken care of. I've got the schedule on a tentative change right now pending approval from the Attorney General of Texas. As soon as he gets out of court, we'll have his rubberstamp on this and be done with it."

"I hope to God that you're right, because Emily cannot stand any more of these shenanigans," JJ huffed, both hands propped on her hips as she glared daggers at the man that had sent her friend into a full-blown panic. "Honestly, what is it with you men today? Are you deliberately setting out to drive us out of our minds? Is there some sort of contest you idiots are attempting to win at our expense? 'Cause if there is, let me tell you that…."

"Look, I don't know what Will's done, but…."

But before he could finish that sentence or any others to follow it, Dave heard his name being bellowed from the bullpen below, Morgan's distinct voice filled with panic. Pushing past JJ out onto the small balcony, he stared down in horror at the sight of the dark haired woman that he loved hunched over in Morgan's office chair, her hands wrapped around the bundle that protected their unborn baby.

"Get your ass down here, Rossi," Morgan yelled, his dark eyes widened almost comically as he waved his hands in the suddenly charged air. "Something just exploded in this woman and it's leaking all over my desk chair!"

Blowing a hard breath out from between her lips, Emily glared up at Morgan's sweating face as she tried to shift to a more comfortable position. "I'm not leaking, you moron! My water just broke!" she yelled, her voice filled with a mixture of agitation and anger. And a second later, as if she'd suddenly realized exactly what she'd just said, she whispered incredulously while shaking her head, "Oh my God. My water just broke. My water can't break. How the heck did I break my water?"

"Better question," Morgan whined balefully, pointing toward the floor. "Why'd you break it on my desk? I never did anything bad to you, Prentiss!"

"How 'bout you learn to focus, my chocolate frosted dimwit," Penelope Garcia growled, smacking the back of his head as she marched up behind him. "Our friend just went into labor," she said, jabbing a manicured finger in Emily's direction as she smacked Morgan's arm, an additional painful focus reminder.

"No," Emily declared firmly, straightening her shoulders underneath her thin red maternity blouse. "No, I did not," she said with alacrity, her eyes widening again as she stared down at her over-grown stomach.

"Yes, you did," Morgan, Garcia and Reid refuted simultaneously, nodding their heads vigorously as they stood in a semi-circle around her.

"Nuh uh," Emily denied, wincing as she heard Dave shouting her name as he raced down the stairs, followed quickly by JJ. "Tell them they're wrong, Dave," she ordered as he stomped in her direction, sweeping a hand toward their trio of concerned co-workers. "Tell them that there is no way that I can possibly be in labor," she demanded, daring him to contradict her expert opinion.

Frowning at the darkening spot on the carpet beneath his lover's feet, Dave shook his head as he drew in a deep breath, reminding himself that only one of them was allowed to panic at any given time. And it wasn't his turn, apparently. "I'm pretty sure telling them that would be a mistake, Cara," he replied evenly, sidestepping the puddle on the carpet to crouch beside her chair. Smoothing a hand over her hair and tucking it behind her ear as he watched her grimace again, Dave threw his keys toward Hotch as the unit chief joined their gathering group. "Pull my SUV to the door, man," he ordered over his shoulder. Looking at JJ, he said quickly, his eyes widening suddenly, "Unless you think we need an ambulance. Do you think we need an ambulance?"

Grabbing his arm as JJ shook her head, Emily gasped, her lower back suddenly clenching, "Hey, your patient is sitting right here. Why don't you ask me that question?"

Quickly turning his head back to Emily, Dave shook his head as he smoothed his hand over her pale cheek. "I'm not asking you anything because you need to conserve your energy for what's coming, Cara. How do you feel?"

"How do I feel?" Emily questioned absently, meeting his eyes as she asked herself that same question. "How do I feel?" she repeated, the question becoming philosophical. "Hmmm, well, that's a difficult question. I think I feel like I have an eight pound watermelon struggling to press its way out of a passage the size of a grape. That's how I feel!"

"Ewww..."Morgan groaned, taking a step backwards. "Nice visual, Prentiss," he shuddered.

"I may never eat another piece of fruit again," Reid muttered, shifting nervously from foot to foot as he calculated the various options of escape available at that given moment.

"Okay," JJ directed with a roll of her eyes as she grabbed Morgan's arm, pushing him toward the doorway, "Curly, take Moe and meet Larry down by the car before Emily scratches the eyes out of one of you. Dave, Pen and I will get Emily down to the car. And one of you call Will and have him meet us at the hospital."

Nodding, his eagerness to escape palpable, Morgan shoved Reid toward the stairs as the younger man asked, "Did she just refer to Hotch as one of the Three Stooges?"

"Whatever, kid, just keep moving," Morgan blustered, pushing Reid out into the stairwell. "I don't wanna be anywhere near that woman when she erupts for real!"


	14. Chapter 14

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Stepping out into the hallway of the busy city hospital maternity ward, Dave softly closed the door to Emily's room behind him as he let out a sigh of relief. All he could think at that moment was that he was unbelievably grateful for this small reprieve, this small break away. And as much as he loved Emily and as much as he was completely in awe at her ability to have their child, he also was barely holding onto his sanity. Barely.

Looking up suddenly as he heard his name being called, he smiled tightly at the man walking his way. "Where the hell have you been, man?" Rossi demanded as Will LaMontagne stepped up beside him. "We've been here for two freaking hours already and you're just now showing up?"

"Hey, I was just followin' instructions," Will countered, grinning at his friend's obvious distress, the wild eyed look in Rossi's eyes bringing back long-hidden memories. "Someone had to take care of arrangin' a sitter for my son, you know."

Rubbing his hand over his face, Rossi muttered as he started to walk down the short hallway, LaMontagne falling into step beside him. "Yeah, I seem to remember JJ saying something about Henry earlier. But you'll have to forgive me since there's been quite a bit of activity since then."

"Yeah, I figured," Will chuckled, taking a good look at the expectant father's disgruntled expression. "How'd you manage to escape anyway? When we were here, JJ had me all but handcuffed to the side of the bed and threatened to chop off important parts of my anatomy if I so much as thought about moving."

Rattling the empty water pitcher in his hand in the other man's direction, Dave growled, "I'm on ice duty. I was told to see if I could manage to do this without screwing it up. It's been obvious that everything else I've said and done for the last two hours has been completely against whatever rules that govern childbirth."

"Get used to it, my friend. From now until the time your bundle of joy makes her grand debut, this is your life. Ain't nothin' you can do that's gonna suit the little mama in there. In her mind, it's her against the world....and the world is tryin' to deliberately kick her ass," Will snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Trust me when I tell you that the woman I love is givin' as good as she gets," Dave shuddered, coming to a stop in front of the ice machine. Depressing the lever as his yellow pitcher began to fill, Dave mumbled over the crunching sound, "I was in the Marines, Will. The freaking Marines and I've never heard some of those words."

"Look at it this way," Will shrugged as he leaned a shoulder against the machine. "At least you can't understand some of them."

"Yeah, but the tone is still there...and trust me, the meaning is well conveyed in those beautiful eyes of hers," Dave muttered, replacing the pitcher's lid with a decisive snap.

"Who's with her now?" Will chuckled, shaking his head as he barely kept the grin from overtaking his face, well aware of the battles the man was about to face.

"Your girl," Rossi replied with a grimace, a shudder rolling through him as he remembered the last few minutes in that so-called birthing room. "I'm pretty sure that JJ is assisting in plotting my imminent demise. What the hell did you do to that woman anyway? In addition to avoiding Emily's amazingly strong blows, I've been forced to duck your woman a couple of times, too. It's like they seem to think if you have a penis, you're channeling the Devil."

"Don't take it personally. Chere is late," Will smirked, strutting next to Dave as they made their way back to Emily's hospital room door.

"Late for what?" Dave asked absently, his mind already gearing for the force of nature that was the woman he loved and the next several hours of hard work they had ahead of them.

Rolling his blue eyes, Will merely raised a brow at the older man. "Think, Old Man," Will advised with a slow drawl, tilting his head in the direction of black and white photograph of a baby on the nearby wall.

Eyes widening slightly as comprehension dawned, Dave groaned in commiseration. Rubbing his hand over his face, he muttered with a wince, "You poor son of a bitch. I don't know whether to congratulate you or pray for you."

"Both would be appreciated," Will laughed easily, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "She goes to the doctor tomorrow, but in my experience, those EPT's rarely tell tall tales."

"Ours certainly didn't," Dave sighed with a faint smile, letting out a deep sigh as he felt his shoulders relax for a moment. "Jokes aside, this is worth every ass chewing I've taken over the last three months."

"Wait 'til that little bit gets here. That feeling will be multiplied times a thousand, man," Will said wisely with a wink. "Ain't nothin' like the first time you hold that little baby in your arms and realize that you helped make a little miracle. Your heart's gonna melt, Dave."

Swallowing thickly as he glanced toward the door, Emily's faint moan filtering through the barrier suddenly propelled him into motion. Turning, one hand on the handle and the other holding the required ice container, he asked over his shoulder, "You coming in?"

"Hell, no," Will snorted, taking a step back as he narrowed his eyes at the obviously confused man. "I'm conservin' my strength," he added, shaking his head. "God willing, I'll be back here in about eight months myself."

"Coward," Dave accused, pushing the door open with a resigned sigh. Leading with the plastic pitcher of requested ice chips, he smiled widely as he said in an upbeat voice, "Honey, I'm back with the ice."

"Great," Emily stated flatly, pushing up in the bed in an attempt to find a comfortable position. Failing to achieve that simple action, she snapped as she dropped heavily against the pillows, "Now, pour some vodka over it and we'll be good to go."

Dropping the yellow container on the bedside table, Dave reached to adjust the thin sheet over her legs only to pull back as he felt his hands sharply slapped.

"Quit that!" Emily ordered with a deep growl, swatting at his hand as she blew a strand of hair out of her face. "I'm not an invalid."

Watching as JJ bit her lip, obviously trying to stifle a chuckle, Dave sighed. He knew by now he was never going to win. That battle had been long lost. It was a guaranteed fact these days that if he said black, his love strongly proclaimed white. Either he was an insensitive bastard that didn't care about the effects this pregnancy had on his lover's mind, body and spirit or he was an overprotective bully clearly intent on ruining her life. And he'd been every variation in between, too. Glancing toward the monitor, Dave winced as he heard Emily's sharp intake of breath as the line signaling a contraction climbed higher and higher.

"Cara, there's a big one coming," Dave warned, his eyes glued to the monitor as he tracked the bouncing line.

Breathing hard, Emily reached for Dave's hand, digging her nails into his flesh with an amazing burst of strength. "Gee, Mr. Profiler," she bit out, pulling in just enough air to blow out the next words, "What was your first clue? I think I got the freaking memo, Rossi. The kid's coming out of me!"

Panting her way through the cloud of pain gripping her abdomen, Emily looked balefully at JJ. "Why do they do that?" she asked plaintively, her words catching in her throat as she cursed whatever deity had deigned that women be subjected to such horrors and indignities. Surely there was a better way to have children, wasn't there? Could they be ordered from a website and delivered by UPS?

"Do what, Em?" JJ asked gently, trying not to smile as Rossi tap-danced beside the bed under Emily's painful hold.

"Why the hell do these men insist on telling us something we already know?" Emily whined, finally releasing her tentacles from Dave's hand as the contraction faded to a dull ache, her back muscles relaxing into a mere spasm rather than the demonic agony she had just experienced.

"Maybe he thinks you can outrun the pain if you know it's coming," JJ quipped, dabbing the sweat rolling down Emily's forehead, pressing the soft, cool cloth to her friend's skin. "Or he's an idiot. Whichever reason works for you."

Closing his eyes as he listened to the conversation in front of him, Dave shook his head as he mentally steeled himself for the coming hours. Yeah, this was gonna be a hell of a night.


	15. Chapter 15

******_Author's Note: Many, many thanks to all the wonderful readers taking time to review, favorite and alert our stories. We are truly grateful to each of you. Please travel over to our new forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" and check out our latest interview with the lovely, talented JenRar. We also have a new thread started called, "Grins and Grimaces of the Fanfiction Site". Hope you all find something there that you enjoy. And as ever, if any of you have any requests for threads or author interviews, please let us know. We love hearing from you. Thanks so much! See you Tuesday!_**

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Fifteen**

In the total of the fifty-five years that he had spent on the face of this globe called the earth, David Rossi was positively certain that he had never experienced what could be described as an alternative universe. Until today. Today, he knew exactly what those science fiction writers must have been alluding when their characters suddenly flew into a different reality.

He could only WISH now that he would be swept away into some galaxy far, far away. But with his luck, the fickle fates would condemn him to a hell far greater than the one he was already currently experiencing.

The strident sound of his name being called broke through his thoughts, and he blinked as he met JJ's stern gaze on the other side of Emily's hospital bed.

"Dave, quit zoning out over there!" JJ ordered, glaring at the man that had managed to put her best friend into this condition.

Shaking his head, he objected, keeping his voice at the soft, neutral tone that he had learned was best for all involved, "I'm not zoning, JJ. Just thinking for a moment."

Squeezing his hand tightly, Emily yanked him closer, pulling him down to her position in the bed as she dug her nails into his skin, "Trust me, Rossi, we passed the thinking stage ten months ago. What the hell do you have to think about now?"

Thankfully, his response was delayed by the squeak of the door. Two scrub-clad nurses entered the birthing suite, a large brightly colored rubber ball held between them. The shorter of the two smiled professionally as she dropped the ball onto the floor. "Okay, Miss Prentiss, it's time to see if the birthing ball can offer you any assistance now. We need to try and allow your labor to progress naturally and this tool often helps," she encouraged with a bright smile.

"JJ," Emily grimaced as she hauled herself upwards in the bed, using Dave's arm as leverage, "why the hell is the adolescent nurse dragging a beach ball into my room?"

"Birthing ball," the nurse corrected gently, catching the bouncing ball with her foot as it rolled against the linoleum. "It can be a very valuable tool, ma'am. Just try it. It should relieve some of the pressure that you're feeling in your back."

"Do I look like I want to try and crawl on top of that thing?" Emily snapped in the hapless nurse's direction. "Like I'm in any shape for the contortionist trick it will take to keep my balance?" she continued, shaking her long dark head firmly as she waved a hand over her gown-covered body. Blowing the hair from her face, Emily ordered Dave, "Get her out of here, Dave. I want a real doctor with real drugs, not a nurse with playground toys!"

"All I ask is that you simply try, Miss Prentiss," the young nurse smiled, unfazed by the older woman's withering glare, having already been warned by the other nurses of her patient's temper.

Looking between the pink scrub clad fresh faced nurse and his sweating irritated lover, Dave fought the urge to wince. The enthusiastically peppy kid obviously hadn't a clue that she'd just come up against a snapping, snarling she-beast in human form. Temporary as Emily's condition might be, he honestly didn't have the energy to try to find a place to hide the nurse's mauled body when Emily finally decided to attack. "Ma'am, I believe she's made her position on the matter clear. We won't be using that thing," he said in his most polite voice, nodding toward the oversized plastic ball, "during this labor."

"You must be grandpa," the nurse replied in a chipper voice with a huge smile. "I bet you're excited to meet your grandbaby soon, aren't you?"

Okay, strike that earlier, misinformed thought, Dave thought, all benevolent feelings of goodwill banished. He'd be happy to find a place to bury the misguided nurse's mangled corpse. Hell, he'd dig the grave himself. Extra deep.

Seeing Dave's swarthy face begin to darken even more than usual, JJ held up a peaceful hand as she smoothly intervened. "They let me walk to progress my labor. Is there any chance that Emily could do that?"

Nodding toward the other woman, the young nurse replied perkily, "I was just gonna offer that option next. Miss Prentiss will need to be accompanied, but I think with that small army in the waiting room that could be handled easily."

"You up for a few endless laps around the corridors, Em?" JJ asked with a look down at her best friend, eyebrows raised in encouragement.

"If the choice is between that inflatable toy and a walk," Emily muttered, glaring at the bright red ball on the floor, "I'll take the walk. Anything to get out of this room!"

"Okey, dokey," the nurse smiled. "Let's see about getting you in a robe then. These halls can be real breezy if you catch my meaning," she winked.

"I brought one," Emily replied, nodding toward her suitcase that Dave had propped in the corner earlier.

"All right then. Just make sure you're back in your room in about half an hour. We'll need to check your progress," the nurse assented, slipping out of the room.

Waiting until the door closed on the bright, entirely too chipper nurse and her silent accomplice, Emily glared at Dave. "You keep that Malibu Barbie out of my room. I refuse to listen to her cheerfully coach me through labor. What is she? Twelve? Has she even had a kid before?"

Biting his lip to keep from laughing at her offended expression, Dave simply nodded. "Whatever you say, Babe," he murmured, helping her slip her robe over her shoulders and tying the sash around her expanded waist. Smiling down into her flashing black eyes, he asked, "So, who do you want to tackle these hallowed halls with first?"

"You up for it?" Emily asked JJ politely, once again amazing Dave with her perfect impression of Jekyll and Hyde.

Nodding, JJ winked at her. "I'll grab Will and meet you out in the hallway. It'll give you," she said, slapping Dave's arm lightly but meaningfully, "a chance to grab some coffee."

Smiling with genuine gratefulness, Dave sighed as their friend slipped out the door. Pulling Emily against him, he stared down into her tired eyes as he smoothed a hand over her flushed cheek. "We're almost there, Cara. Entering that home stretch."

"Yes, but I've got a sinking feeling the hard work is still up ahead," Emily groaned, resting her head against his solid chest as she felt a mild tightening in her lower back start once again. "What if I'm not strong enough to do this, Dave?" she asked, her words muffled as she buried her face against his shirt, her hands pressing against her belly.

Snorting, Dave looked at the ceiling. "Are you kidding me? YOU? You who can cut me off at the knees with a single look? Babe, I'm convinced that there isn't anything you can't do when you decide to do it. Including childbirth. Besides, you are not alone. Not while there's breath in this body."

"You know I love you, don't you?" Emily whispered, raising her head to meet his dark familiar eyes, needing to hear his response as much as she needed to get his child out of her body.

"I do," Dave nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead as his arms tightened around her, "but, that's never something I get tired of hearing." And he never would.


	16. Chapter 16

******_Author's Note: A quick thanks to everyone still following along with our stories. We genuinely appreciate each one of you. Please, travel on over to our forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" and read our latest interview with the multi-talented bonesbird. As ever, we don't own Criminal Minds._**

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Sixteen**

Pushing out a shallow breath as she pressed her hand to her stomach, Emily Prentiss grunted as she kept her eyes focused on the generic linoleum tiles of the hospital maternity corridor. Muttering to her walking companions, she asked, "Exactly how many laps am I going to be making, JJ? I wasn't exactly expecting to be completing the New York Marathon today, you know."

Catching sight of Will's grin behind Emily's head, JJ frowned in his direction as she patted her obvious unhappy friend's shoulder. "It won't be twenty-six miles, Em, I promise. Sometimes it just takes a few minutes to get things moving inside."

"Chere's right, Emily," Will agreed, well aware that he was being judged by both women, his own beloved not exactly happy with her own situation either. Refusing to wince as Emily tightened her grip on his forearm, her fingers biting deeply into his skin, he added, evenly, "Henry just needed to feel the motion for a little while before he kicked right into gear."

Turning her eyes toward the Southerner attached to her best friend, Emily snorted, her voice filled with outrage as she rounded another corner, "JJ was in labor fifteen hours! Fifteen. Freaking. Hours. You call that a little while, Will? Are you out of your freaking mind?"

Hearing JJ's accompanying snort join Emily's, Will immediately prepared for the missiles that were sure to be lobbed in his direction. How in the name of all that was holy did he get volunteered for labor duty when it wasn't even his child about to be born? And where the hell was David Rossi now?

"Where's this baby's daddy, Em?" Will asked, his laid back southern voice floating over her like a balm.

Sighing heavily, Emily gestured down the hallway, her hand flapping as she forced herself her to take another step forward. "Grabbing a cup of coffee, I think. He had that frazzled look in his eyes, and JJ took mercy on him."

"We just have to get him rested up for the main event," JJ stated demurely, tightening her grip on her friend's arm as they navigated around another couple walking in the opposite direction. David Rossi was going to need all his strength in the coming hours, and taking a few moments to compose himself now might preserve what little sanity he had left. "It seems that you've forgotten how grueling this particular activity can be, Will," JJ said pointedly, her words laced with acid as she glared at her lover around Emily's back.

"Now, JJ, honey," Will shook his head, keeping step with Emily as they trudged down the hallway, "I ain't forgotten anything. I just happen to think the payoff is well worth the work."

"Course he does," Emily muttered through her teeth, her eyes narrowing as she heard a muffled yell somewhere in the not-so-far distance. "HE'S not the one doing the heavy lifting."

"Amen, sister," JJ murmured, her lips pressing together as she shook her head, attempting to forget the memories of her son's birth, well aware of the fact that she would be repeating that scenario in just a few months.

"Now, you know we'd do it for you if we could," Will chided good naturedly, swallowing convulsively as both Emily and JJ stopped mid-step, both turning to glare at him with condemning eyes. It didn't take a trained detective to recognize the obvious signs right in front of him, his words having once again painted him into the proverbial corner, with no escape route in sight.

"Did he just say what I think he said?" Emily hissed to her companion, jabbing a pointed finger, hard, into Will's chest.

"Unfortunately, he did," JJ nodded gravely, narrowing her eyes as she considered the stupidity of the male species as a whole. "Evidently he's forgotten the rules to his own damned book." Eyeing Will coldly, JJ stepped forward, smacking his arm sharply as she pushed him toward the other end of the hallway. "You are officially relieved from labor duty. And for the record, a man could never do this. Especially you. You scream like a girly-man when you get a hangnail."

"Now, chere..." Will said consolingly as he tried to turn around to face his beloved, "I didn't mean nothing..."

"Will," Emily said darkly, still seething at the Cajun's highly misplaced assumptions, "Run far. And run very, very fast."

And a split second later, Will took the sage advice offered by his woman's very pregnant best friend.

Watching as Will virtually loped down the hallway, JJ shook her head. Sadly, she muttered, "And I bred with him not once, but twice."

Carefully resuming their slow pace, Emily relented for a moment as she consoled, "He's a good guy, JJ. A little misguided, but one of the nice guys."

"Remind me of that when I'm in your position again in a few months," JJ sighed, offering Emily a faint smile as she watched the heavily pregnant woman lean against the wall, another contraction obviously making its presence known.

Running almost headlong into Dave as he rounded a corner, Will stumbled to a stop. Grabbing Dave's arm in an intractable grip, Will said shortly, his tone filled with heavy warning, "Wrong way, man. Wrong, wrong way!"

Frowning as he lifted his coffee cup back to his lips for a fortifying sip, his second cup in the last five minutes, Dave asked as he rolled his eyes, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Me? Nothin'," Will shook his head, cocking an eyebrow as he added, knowingly, "But your gal...well, let's just say she's reached that volatile stage of labor."

"Huh?" Dave grunted, looking quickly at Will, his frazzled mind way too occupied to attempt any form of translations at this moment.

"Let me put it another way. If you have a penis, your life is in mortal danger if you venture too close. She and JJ both had a go at me. I feel sorry for Morgan and Reid," Will murmured, nodding toward the two men currently sprawled in the waiting room, their casual positions belying the future they obviously were not prepared for. "Neither one of them know what the hell they're in for."

"Poor bastards," Dave sighed, taking another large gulp, the hot liquid burning a path down his throat. Peering down the hallway, almost afraid of catching a glimpse of the woman he loved, he muttered, "How much longer do you think this'll go on, Will?"

"Could be hours yet, Rossi," Will replied wisely, nodding to Dave's coffee cup. "Drink up, man. You're gonna need every bit of the mental acuity you're so well known for. And some physical agility that you ain't."

"Why do I talk to you?" Rossi asked grumpily, reaching up to rub his aching head, mentally calculating the time they had already spent at this so-called blessed even. They had to be near the home stretch. It had been hours, for God's sake!

"Because you need somebody that'll tell you the truth," Will replied succinctly. Stomping over to the small coffee cart near the door, he reached for a Styrofoam cup as he added, "And, evidently, I've been nominated."

"The truth, huh," Rossi groaned, rubbing a heavy hand against his face, wincing as he heard a very definite scream pierce the maternity hallways.

"Yeah, and the truth right now is that your very pregnant woman just veered from slightly unreasonable to vaguely homicidal. And if you aren't careful, it'll be your blood she's intent on spillin'."

"And that'd be different from any other day for the past three months, how, exactly?" Dave quipped, searching desperately for any humor in this situation. This situation that he had volunteered to be a part of.

Leaning toward him, Will whispered in a soft voice, his eyes wide, "This place has the really sharp knives, remember?"


	17. Chapter 17

******_Author's Note: Thanks to everyone that has been patiently awaiting updates. Real life has been a crazy, frenetic blur of activity on both my and my co-author's part. Hopefully, it will regulate in the next few weeks. Until then, postings on everything a couple of times a week is the best we can hope for. Again thank you to everyone that is still reading, reviewing, favoriting and alerting these stories. It means a lot. Please stop by our forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" and get to know the multi-talented Kavi Leighanna, one of our core Hotch/Prentiss writers on the site. And, as always, Tonnie and I own nothing._**

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Seventeen**

His eyes widening as he watched his beloved round the corner, her hand holding JJ's in what could only be described as a death grip as her face contorted tightly, Dave felt himself moving toward her as he called out, "Emily! What's wrong?" He couldn't understand why JJ wasn't immediately calling for a doctor, or nurse, or someone who could stop the pain that Emily was obviously experiencing. Her eyes were narrowed tightly and her jaw clenched in spasms as she seemed to be fighting for a breath.

Rolling her eyes at the dark headed man who was apparently in the process of losing his mind, JJ answered instead, her voice full of sarcasm as she snipped, "It's called a contraction, you idiot. Emily's experiencing some of the heavier ones now, which is a good thing. The walking is working."

"You call THIS working?" Dave asked incredulously, attempting to reach for Emily's hand, only to have her sharply swat his fingers away as she let out a loud breath. "She's in pain, for God's sake! We need a doctor to make it stop, you hear me?"

Straightening up slowly as she felt the last pain leave her back, Emily propped against the wall as she muttered darkly in Dave's direction, "You did this to me, Rossi. And don't think I will be forgetting this when I'm back in fighting form, you hear me?"

Taking an involuntary step backwards as the pure venom in her voice assailed him full force, Dave felt Will LaMontagne's hand land heavily on his shoulder, keeping him from escaping.

"Rule 946, man," LaMontagne hissed in his ear, his voice filled with that same knowing tone it had held for the past ten months. "When the woman's in labor, she's in charge of makin' up the rules. And the father's ass is grass."

Forcing a smile on his face as he attempted to ignore the look of fury in Emily's dark eyes, Dave took a tentative step forward as he asked gently, "Honey, don't you think you need to lie down now? Surely it's time and…"

"It's time when MY daughter says it's time," Emily snapped, waving her hand in the air and almost hitting another expectant mother who was trying to pass through their small group. "I'm going to keep walking until I know for damn sure that she's ready to make her appearance. If you can't handle that, Rossi, then I suggest that you go and …."

Pushing her way to the front of their assembled group, Penelope Garcia glared at the men as she declared soothingly in Emily's direction, "Okay, little momma, let's keep the language PG in front of the baby to be, okey dokey? And I think this is now a job for my Chocolate God of Thunder and our resident genius. They look like they're just raring to go, don't they?"

Eyes widening dramatically as he eyed a flushed Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan automatically shook his head in denial. Crossing his muscular arms over his chest, he dissented, "I was thinking this was more a job for your enthusiastic self, Mama."

Adam's apple bobbing, Reid readily nodded his agreement as he stepped up beside his reluctant teammate. "Yes, as a woman, I'd think you'd be much better suited to help Emily cope with the rigors of childbirth."

"Because I have a vagina?" Penelope asked sarcastically, narrowing her eyes on the two nervous men, rolling her eyes as they both winced at her words. "Nope," she declared succinctly, waving a finger in their direction. "Batter up, boys," she said firmly. "It's your turn up to bat. Knock it out of the park for us."

"But...," Morgan whined, looking frantically around at the people surrounding him, searching for a willing victim to sacrifice to the pregnancy gods, "Hotch! Hotch can do it! He's been through it before! Experience, thy name is Aaron Hotchner. He knows what to expect."

"Consider this on the job training," Emily hissed, grabbing Morgan's strong arm and dragging his protesting body down the hallway, letting out a deep breath. "Less complaining, more walking. Unless you'd like to spit this kid out for me, that is? I'd be willing to pay big money. Or, at least, I'm willing to spend Dave's."

"Biologically impossible," Reid sputtered, trailing behind his colleagues, attempting to keep at least three feet between him and the woman who could easily end his mortal existence. "The male genitalia prevent..."

"It was a friggin' figure of speak, Kid," Morgan groaned, glaring at the younger man over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes as he saw the younger man attempt to open his mouth again. "Please, for the love of God, save us the anatomy lesson. I just had a burger, for God's sake!"

"But, the female body is a miraculous thing, Derek. It's simply incredible," Reid said, appropriately awed as he watched Emily waddle in front of him. "Do you realize that Emily's cervix is currently widening to ten centimeters even as we speak? From a completely closed position! In a matter of hours! Zero to ten!"

"Reid," Emily said tightly as she felt her lower back start to cramp, clutching Morgan's forearm in a death grip as she resisted the urge to take a swing at the innocent man behind her.

"Yes, Emily," Reid answered readily, loping forward to Emily's free side, ready to assist in any way possible.

"Do me a favor, okay?" she ground out through her clenched jaw, her eyes focused on the tiles beneath her feet while she reminded herself that breathing was a required activity. One step, two steps, breathe. Three steps, four steps, breathe.

"Absolutely anything," Reid supplied eagerly, anxious for something productive to do. A thought suddenly struck him just then, illuminating the light bulb in his always active mind. Perhaps this experience would provide him with excellent data that he could weave into his philosophy thesis, the miracle of life always a perfect moral topic.

"SHUT. UP!" Emily growled, the words climbing out of her chest as she swatted a hand in the young idiot's direction. "The last thing I want to think about right now is the eight pound human being that's going to force herself past those measly ten centimeters!"

"But, Emily," Reid argued, his eyes widening as he stepped out of reach of her talon-like fingers, "On September 29, 2009, a baby in Indonesia was birthed weighing 19.2 pounds at 62 centimeters long via natural childbirth. Think how lucky you are."

"Did he just tell me I was lucky? Did the boy genius actually just have the unmitigated balls to call me lucky?"" Emily asked incredulously, looking up into Morgan's face as the older man winced under the grip on his arm.

"'Fraid so," Morgan nodded sympathetically, refusing to let any signs of weakness show in the presence of the pregnant woman, no matter how much her fingers were hurting him. Looking around Emily's girth, Morgan ordered, "Youngster, do yourself a favor."

"What?" Reid asked blankly, blessedly unaware that he was poised precariously closely to being castrated himself.

"Run," Morgan growled, praying with every fiber of his being that Spencer would follow his instruction before Prentiss decided to commit a homicide with her bare hands.

"Fast," Emily demanded with a stern glare in Reid's direction as she widened her stance, breathing out deeply as she felt those not-at-all-lovely tentacle of pain wrap around her muscles once again.

Luckily, Spencer Reid, while infinitely clueless , was no man's fool. Well versed in Morgan's dire tones and Emily's dangerous looks, he ran. Far and fast.


	18. Chapter 18

**_Author's Note: Thanks to everyone still following our stories. We absolutely adore hearing from you. And please, travel over to our forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner", for two more interviews with the talented authors, LoveforPenandDerek and egoofy34!_**

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Eighteen**

Emily Prentiss' teeth snapped violently together as another contraction ripped through her lower body. Automatically reaching for Aaron Hotchner's steady, solid arm as she stumbled to a stop in the deserted hospital corridor, her eyes drifted closed as she mentally counted her way through the pain. Both of her colleagues stood in silent sentry, watching her face carefully for any signs of changes in the regular plan. As the pain finally eased and her eyes opened, the first thing she saw was Penelope Garcia's bright smile.

"You're handling these things like a freaking pro, Em," Penelope declared with a sunny smile, bouncing on her tiptoes. "I'm seriously impressed over here. Isn't she, Boss Man?" she asked their Unit Chief, nodding positively as if she was daring the man to contradict her positive statement.

Stoic as always, Hotch nodded. "I wouldn't have expected anything less out of Emily," he agreed, trying not to look relieved as Emily released the nails currently embedded in his forearm. "Do you want to keep going?" he asked her calmly, resisting the urge to rub his arm, reminding himself that he had lived through far worse than this and never uttered a word. He could survive a few steps more with his pregnant colleague.

Blowing the sweaty hair from her face, Emily nodded, determined not to stop until her daughter decided stopping was the only alternative. "Let's make another lap," she said hoarsely, grateful that she finally had two companions that were both dependable and encouraging. Hell, if she'd have had their company from the beginning of this grueling journey, she might not feel as if a semi had rolled over her with all eighteen wheels.

Glancing toward Hotch, Em commented as she cocked her head to the side, "You're good at this."

"Thanks," Hotch replied, smiling faintly at the tone in her voice, hearing the surprise mixed with her obvious fatigue.

Curious, Penelope asked, "How so, Little Mama? What's the Boss Man doing different from any of our other male compadres?"

"Well, for one thing, he hasn't asked me if it's time to push every thirty seconds," Emily said, rolling her eyes as she rolled her neck from side to side, attempting to release the crick that seemed to be growing stronger with each step. "I'm fairly certain that Morgan thought my child was just going to fall out of my body through gravity alone."

"Ah, my clueless hunk of chocolate had that fear, did he?" Pen laughed, imagining Morgan's dark face growing paler and paler with each footstep he and Emily had taken. He'd definitely been a little shaken when they'd finally landed in front of her and Hotch half an hour ago, more than ready to hand his colleague off to the next member of the pregnancy party train.

"Let's just say that Morgan has no career as a potential midwife," Emily griped, frowning as she remembered those not-so-comforting laps with her colleague. "I swear to God, PG, he asked me thirty times if I was sure she wouldn't just drop out. He was afraid she'd get a concussion when she hit the floor. And when I told him she was attached to an umbilical cord, I was fairly certain he was going to pass out."

"And you didn't get any pics for me?" Penelope asked with mock horror, pressing her hand to her cheek as she raised her well-plucked brows expectantly.

"Sorry, I was a little busy trying to breathe through the pain," Em snorted as she waved a hand toward her obviously expanded abdomen, brushing her fingers against her soft robe.

"Well, if you ask me, you're a champ at this. The picture of grace under pressure," Pen stated loyally, nodding her head for added emphasis.

And that was why she loved Penelope Garcia. The woman had a knack for knowing exactly what she needed to hear. "Thanks, Garcia," Emily said softly, sighing gratefully.

"Just stating the undeniable truth," Pen shrugged easily, guiding Emily around an elderly couple who apparently had lost their way in the otherwise empty corridor.

Glancing at his profiler as she winced again, Aaron sensed they needed to try to get her mind off the pain. "How did Reid do?" he asked, his face impassive as Emily once more wrapped her hand around his abused arm, her talons once again finding their resting place without any trouble.

"You mean when he wasn't quoting statistics and giving me images of spawning a twenty pound Rossi? He was peachy," Emily sighed, grimacing as her soon-to-be-born daughter once again made her presence known.

"So...typical Reid," Hotch noted impartially, his eyes narrowing for a second as he felt Emily falter, her fingers tightening against his arm.

"Oh, so typical," Emily nodded, feeling the pain wave reach a crescendo as she reached her free hand out to catch herself against the wall.

"Cara?" Emily heard Dave call from the other end of the long hallway, his voice unmistakable even in the midst of the pain invading her muscles. Wincing as she heard his pounding footfalls draw closer, she could hear the worry in his voice.

"Aaron, is she okay?" Dave shouted, hurrying toward her , his eyes widening as he watched the woman he loved almost bent in half, her cheeks reddening in what he thought to be a dangerous manner.

"Did that moron just ask if I was okay?" Emily mumbled more to herself than anyone else, shifting her eyes from the ugly linoleum floor to the foolish man. Here she was, sweaty, out of breath, feeling as though she'd ran ten marathons back to back...and the man she loved...that she knew loved her...was asking if she was okay. And they called HIM the legendary profiler.

Dave felt her condemning eyes land on him the second his somewhat asinine question left his lips. Her "you did NOT just ask that question" look firmly affixed to her sweating, albeit gorgeous, face, he immediately backpedaled. "I mean, of course you aren't okay," he said quickly, holding up a hand in an effort to forestall a future attack, "but are you any less okay than you were, say, five minutes ago?"

Listening to his ramble was physically painfully. Excruciating, really, Penelope Garcia thought. To see the great David Rossi reduced to a quivering pile of nerves in this cool hospital corridor was too priceless to miss. And, pulling her phone out of her pocket, she quickly snapped a picture of the anxious man. "Blackmail for later," she whispered conspiratorially to Emily, patting the woman's tense shoulder. "I only wish I had clicked on the audio, too."

With a nod for Pen and a glare for Dave, Emily turned her head to stare at Hotch with pleading eyes. "Can you please help me back to bed now?"

"But I thought you wanted to walk this baby right out of your body?" Penelope asked brightly, leaning forward to stare into the pregnant mama's eyes.

"Mmm," Emily hummed, clenching her jaw as another stronger urge assailed her, her eyes widening as she fought against what her body was obviously attempting to do. "That was before the need to start pushing began."

"Pushing?" Dave's eyes widened as he stopped moving, his foot literally held in mid air. "As in, push the baby out?" he faltered.

Lifting her eyes to the ceiling, Emily fought both the pain and for patience. "Why is it that you're a man, Hotch, and you still don't ask stupid questions?"

Smiling faintly, Hotch answered benignly, "Oh, I've asked my fair share, Prentiss. Then, I promptly made a mental note of Haley's reaction and never asked the same one twice. Don't worry, Dave'll be much better on the second go-around."

"Second?" Dave sputtered, dropping his sole heavily to the floor with a thud as he moved toward the woman currently attempting to give birth to his child.

"I'm not sure he'll be living through the first," Penelope mused aloud, earning a harried look from her older colleague.

"Now," Hotch said impassively, guiding both his pregnant perturbed co-worker and her equally agitated mate down the hallway, "I think you were in the mood to begin pushing. Let's get you someone qualified to assist with that, shall we?"


	19. Chapter 19

**__****Author's Note: Many, many thanks to everyone who continues to read, review, alert and favorite our stories. We truly appreciate each and every one of you. Today, please travel over to our forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" and check out our latest "Getting to Know You" interview with the very talented LacytheDemonicDuck. And please, drop us a post or PM and let us know your thoughts on the forum. We'd love your input. Thanks again. And, as always, we don't own Criminal Minds.**

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Nineteen**

Emily Prentiss considered herself to be a strong, capable woman with a proven track record of handling difficult issues with panache and aplomb. Years of training at the feet of political masters around the world had given her the enviable ability of remaining calm and poised in any trying situation. Good manners and common courtesy wouldn't allow her to break those ironclad rules.

Until now. Because now, Emily was fairly certain that Miss Manners or Emily Post had never written any sort of guidebook for dealing with the indignities and trials of giving birth in front of one's friends and family.

Clenching her fingers tighter around Dave's once-strong hand, Emily grunted as she leaned forward in the hospital bed, "Good God, here it comes again."

Ignoring the pain that somehow seemed to still course through his long-numb fingers, Dave leaned closer as he encouraged, confidently, "You can do this, babe. I know you can. Just a few more and I know she'll be right out."

"That's what…you said….an hour ago!" Emily panted as she glared up through her pain-induced haze, mentally re-evaluating that original urge that had pushed her to procreate. Obviously, she had been mentally deranged, she told herself, and these people who were supposed to be her friends didn't stop her! And certainly not the dark headed passionate Italian whose hand she currently clutched.

Nodding rapidly from his place on the far side of the room, Derek Morgan called out, "I'm with Emily on that one, man. You've been telling that woman for the past hour that it's almost over!" Shaking his bald head heavily, he added, throwing his hands up in the air, "The woman knows it ain't over!"

A joined chorus of "Shut up, Morgan" came across the crowded room just then, the blended voices of their various teammates filling his ears.

"In the….corner….Morgan," Emily ordered through the last vestiges of that urge to push, letting out a full blown breath as she collapsed exhaustedly back against the mound of pillows behind her.

"Look at it this way, Emily," Reid said eagerly from the window sill he currently perched on, having been banished to that particular location five pushes earlier, "According to the latest statistics, the average labor for a first child generally lasts just twelve hours...and you're already three quarters of the way there. The remaining time left is far less than the time you have already expended."

Reaching for the box of tissues resting on the bedside table, Emily wrapped her aching fingers around the cardboard box and hurled it with easy accuracy, her missile squarely hitting Reid in the center of the forehead.

Stepping in front of her best friend before she could acquire further ammunition, JJ said gently over her shoulder, "Spence, maybe it would be safer for you if you joined Morgan in the corner over there."

Seeing the boy wonder readily nod, Dave met JJ's eyes across Emily's sweating body. "Any chance I can get sent to the corner?" he asked with a weak smile, only half joking as he tried to return some form of circulation to the fingers of his left hand, flexing the heavily-abused joints as he kept one eye on the flickering monitor beside the large hospital bed.

"I don't know, Rossi," Emily snapped sharply, glaring up at him as she blew a strand of hair away from her heated face, "Do you think the doctor would let me just up and go home right now?"

Glancing up from his position on a stool at the foot of her bed, her obstetrician and current best friend, Dr. Wilson, smiled faintly. "'Fraid not, kiddo. You're in this one to the beautiful end."

"Beautiful? Are you honestly referring to this as a beautiful experience?" Looking at JJ, Emily whispered as she waved a hand toward the end of the bed, "Do you think my doctor's been sniffing a little more than antiseptic?"

"Don't worry, Ms. Prentiss," the young nurse at her bedside said enthusiastically, patting Emily's shoulder with a pink-manicured hand. "In a few hours, you'll look back at this whole experience and think it was wonderful."

Lifting one blonde brow, JJ eyed the nurse with an assessing eye, her gaze traveling over the woman's pencil-thin body. "You've never had a baby, have you?"

"Not yet," the nurse replied excitedly, her full lips spreading widely as she added, "But my husband and I are trying like crazy."

"Mmmm...explains so much," JJ murmured, exchanging a sympathetic look with Emily, easing herself between the perky nurse and the obviously distressed pregnant woman giving birth.

"Remind me to get her husband one of the rulebooks," Will chuckled, lifting a hand to caress JJ's back.

"YOU," Emily hissed as she heard his voice, pointing at Will and narrowing her eyes as she struggled to sit up in spite of the painful throbbing in her back, "can shove your damned so-called expert advice up your..."

"Cara," Dave interrupted as he squeezed her hand in warning, his eyes glued to the monitor measuring her contractions, "I think you'd better save your oxygen. It looks like another..."

Snatching her hand from his, Emily glared at her lover as she sputtered, "I don't need your freaking contraction narration, you daft imbecile . I've got a front row seat to this show, David!" Groaning as her muscles began to tighten again, she heard the doctor begin to count once more. Lifting her head as she bore down against the mattress, she gratefully felt Garcia take JJ's place beside the head, wiping her brow with a cool cloth. "Don't ever do this, PG! I don't care how great everybody makes it sound! It's the closest to hell a woman can get without actually being there!" Emily panted, squeezing her eyes shut in a futile attempt to shut out what was apparently her new reality. "Oh God," she moaned, flopping back against the pillows as Dave stroked her cheek.

"You're getting closer, Cara. I saw her head that time," Rossi smiled down at her, pressing his fingers softly against her tense forehead.

"He's right, Emily," Dr. Wilson agreed encouragingly, his voice floating through her pain-filled consciousness. "We're almost there. Two or three more pushes and you can meet your daughter."

"I've changed my mind," Emily gasped, shaking her head tiredly as she cocked open one eyelid, peering up at the man standing over her. "She can just stay in there. I'm going home."

"Oh, hell, no. I'm not leaving this hospital until I can go home with one more person than we came in with," Dave said, shaking his dark head as he helped Emily up again, her moans filling his ears. "You can do this, babe."

"You do it," Emily retorted, turning her face into his green scrub clad chest as she felt the pain begin anew. Clenching her fingers around the ugly scrubs the nurse had demanded he wear, she exclaimed, "Your daughter wants to kill me!"

"No, babe," Dave denied with a happy grin as he gently loosened her steel grip, "She just wants to meet her mama. Help her out with that, okay?"

Screaming as the pain once again racked through her body and she bore down again, Emily vaguely heard the doctor announce that he had the baby's shoulders.

"One more good push, Emily," the doctor urged from his position at the base of the bed.

"Promise?" Emily asked faintly, her voice exhausted as she lifted her eyes to see Dave's tearful gaze affixed to whatever the doctor was doing.

"One more," Garcia cheered from the other side of the bed, reaching out with the ever present damp cloth to press against her friend's flushed face.

Bearing down one final time, Emily felt a wave of relief as the pressure suddenly ceased and an infuriated cry filled the small birthing suite.

"She's here," Dave whispered in awe, dropping his gaze back to Emily, his black eyes dancing wildly as he shook his head in pure amazement. "And she'd beautiful like her mama."

"Would you like to cut the cord, Mr. Rossi?" Emily heard Dr. Wilson ask Dave. Watching as Dave blinked rapidly and nodded, she saw him tenderly bring a naked squirming Baby Rossi to his chest.

"Let me see her," Emily choked, her own tears nearly obscuring her sight as she blindly lifted her hands. Releasing a shaky breath as Dave placed their daughter in her arms for the first time, she stared at the tiny miracle they'd created together, her fingers wrapping tightly around the squirming bundle that belonged completely to her. Words were impossible as emotions she'd never experienced before flooded her, instantly bonding her to this tiny life forever. "She's perfect," Emily whispered, reverently counting first her daughter's fingers, then her toes. Grinning through a sudden wave of tears as she stroked the baby's reddened cheeks as a cry emerged, she whispered, "Absolutely perfect."

Hearing their friends collectively shuffling out of the room to give them an opportunity to bond with their new child, Dave wiped his eyes, nodding as he covered Emily's hand with his. "And baby Rossi makes three."


	20. Chapter 20

**__****Author's Note: Many, many thanks to everyone who continues to read, review, alert and favorite our stories. We truly appreciate each and every one of you. Today, please travel over to our forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" and check out our latest "Getting to Know You" interview with the very talented ArwenLalaith. One of the premiere talents on this site, she's also recently taken over the Criminal Minds Fan Fiction Awards. Also, we have another discussion thread open called, "Creating the Perfect Marriage with Dialogue and Description" Please, drop us a post or PM and let us know your thoughts on the forum. We'd love your input. Thanks again. And, as always, we don't own Criminal Minds.**

**_On a side note, would you guys be interested in this little saga continuing in another story about Rossi and Emily confronting all the triumphs and pitfalls of parenthood? Let us know!_**

**The Third Trimester: Lessons Learned**

**Chapter Twenty**

Smiling as he heard the door to the hospital room squeak open, David Rossi whispered down to the sleeping baby cuddled tightly in his arms as he heard footsteps, "I think we're about to have company, little girl. Daddy promises that he won't let them stay too long."

Pushing to the front of the small pack now gathered just inside the doorway, Penelope Garcia marched across the linoleum floor as she declared in a loud hiss, "Pay no attention to the crazy man, my newest little Rossi. Aunt Penny will take care of everything."

Shifting sideways in the padded rocking chair, Rossi glared up at the pushy redhead as he said, tilting his head toward the nearby hospital bed, "If you wake up either one of my girls, Garcia, I swear I'll find a way to chuck those computers of yours down the garbage disposal. Capice?"

Reaching out a strong hand, Morgan gently pulled his favorite person out of the line of fire as he said, calmly and softly, "Okay, you two. Return to your neutral corners. No fights when we're finding out about this new little girl's name."

Stirring in the hospital bed, Emily let out a wide yawn as she slowly opened her eyes. Rubbing a hand over her forehead, she murmured, sleepily, "Dave, why are these people here? Didn't we throw them out earlier?"

Offering a rare smile from the back of the group, Hotch replied dryly, "Have you ever tried to hold Garcia back from doing anything she wanted to do, Prentiss? After the third solid blow landed, we decided it would be in our combined best interest to allow her to face Rossi's wrath."

"Hey!" Pen yelped softly, lowering for voice as she felt Dave's focused glare. "I wasn't that bad."

"You bit me!" Reid complained, holding his left hand in the air for emphasis, "And drew blood!"

"Told ya the gag was a bad idea," Will shrugged, wrapping an arm around JJ as he wisely kept to the back of the group, having experienced Garcia's karate chop action earlier.

"Look, Kid, quit whining. You aren't the one that has severe questions about your ability to father a kid now," Morgan retorted, glaring at Penelope as he mentally winced, the earlier pain still very clear in his mind.

"You were between me and the door," Pen replied unapologetically, ignoring the tones of outrage around her. "Told you to move," she shrugged, fingering the pink blanket wrapped around the much anticipated bundle of job in Rossi's arms. "Oh my God," she breathed as a tiny little fist snuck out to curl next to a reddened cheek, "she's like this perfect combination of you and Emily."

Looking over Pen's shoulder, JJ grinned. "I'm thinking more Rossi than Em. Look at that complexion."

"She has Emily's eyes," Dave murmured, staring down at his little miracle, still unable to believe that such an amazing gift belonged to him. Even after an entire hour of just holding her and staring down at her sleeping face, he still somehow expected his tiny daughter to disappear, to evaporate from his grasp.

"And Dave's lungs," Emily smiled tiredly, meeting Dave's loving gaze across the room as she reached for the rail of the bed, a sudden whirring filling the room as she adjusted the mattress.

"The better for the little Princess to let ya'll know when you've got somethin' wrong," Will grinned, remembering Henry's early days upon the earth and his son's obvious displeasure at their parenting abilities.

Nodding, Dave slowly rose from his chair, crossing the small room to Emily's side and placing their child gently in her waiting arms. "So, mama," Dave asked, caressing his daughter's warm cheek before dropping a kiss against Emily's flushed forehead, watching as Emily immediately cuddled the baby closer, "have we come to a final decision about this little angel's name?"

"I want Marianna for your mother," Emily said softly, lifting her eyes from their daughter to her father. "It's too beautiful a name not to bring it into the next generation."

"You sure?" Dave asked, his voice choked as he realized Emily wanted to honor his mother.

"Positive," Emily nodded, dropping her gaze back to the baby, entranced as the delicate eyelashes started to flutter, dark eyes appearing for a bare second. "Now, all we need is a middle name."

"Grace," David replied, his voice hushed, the name almost a reverent blessing. Grace was perfect, he thought as he tried to fight the lump in his throat. His daughter was the unmerited gift he had been given that he would be thanking God for every single day for the rest of his life.

"Fitting," Emily nodded, her own tears hovering in the corners of her eyes as she stroked a gentle finger over the baby's soft cheek. "Marianna Grace Rossi," she whispered, testing the name aloud. "It feels right," she said with a confident smile, looking up at the man beside her.

"It certainly does," Dave agreed, gently kissing her as the rest of their team collectively voiced their approval.

Rapidly nodding her support, Garcia grinned as she held her arms out wide. "Okay, everybody, I think this little familia needs to do a bit of bonding and I, for one, am ready to shop for our newest team member." Turning to grab a strong muscled arm belonging to the man planted beside her, she ordered good-naturedly, "Get the lead out, Morgan! I've got a credit card and I know how to use it!"

Hearing the laughter follow Garcia from the room, Dave turned back toward his new family. His family, he thought with an amazed smile. "From a potential test tube baby to this...your perfect little plan has come a long way, hasn't it?" Dave grinned, gently sitting beside Emily on the bed, reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of ebony hair behind Emily's ear.

"Full circle," Emily breathed, tucking Marianna closer to her breast as she leaned slightly into Dave's strong touch. "Any regrets?" she asked, staring up into the intense, dark eyes of the man she loved.

"Just one," Dave replied seriously, nodding even as he saw the flash of panic in Emily's eyes. "I wish it hadn't taken me this long to find you...find you both," he amended quickly, glancing at his daughter.

"All good things to those who wait," Emily recited, relief filling her voice as she realized that, finally, she had reached her Shangri-La. Everything she ever wanted or would ever need was wrapped up in this new family that she and Dave were creating.

"Then this experience ought to be the most rewarding of my life," Dave returned, caressing Emily's cheek tenderly with one hand as the other stroked his little girl's ebony head.

And it was.

_**Finis**__**  
**_


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